Dreaming of a Jibbs Christmas
by jibbsloversunited
Summary: A mammoth helping of Jibbs for Christmas.
1. Welcome

Welcome to Jibbsfest Secret Santa 2011! There were no prompts this time, although most people made a request for a particular theme or event in their gifts.

I know it's being posted a little late, and I'm still waiting on a few entries, so there will be some posted after today when I get them in. And there's a bonus entry towards the end (with details included there).

Due to the sheer number of entries this year, posting is going to take about an hour. With luck. And some hand-holding from DD Agent.

Happy holidays!

If anyone is interested in participating in a future round, feel free to introduce yourself on the forum (Forums – TV Shows – NCIS – Jenny&Gibbs – Jibbsfest) or PM me (MissJayne).


	2. The Parent Trap fredesrojo

**Title: **The Christmas Trap

**Author**: fredesrojo

**For:** DD Agent

**Rating**: T

**A/N: **The use of {} replaces strike-throughs in this piece, as the site won't let them upload.

Tony DiNozzo eyed the ringing phone on his boss' desk warily, giving his partners a worried look. With a pronounced wince, he stood from his desk and stepped around the ever growing pile of cold-case files next to it.

"If this is a case he's going to flip."

Tim McGee and Ziva David nodded, dejected expressions on their faces. "Maybe he'll let us take it so he can still have Tommy and Liam."

"Hah. Yeah right, Probie. When pigs fly." Tony snorted mirthlessly, snatching the phone off the receiver. "Special Agent Jethro Gibbs' desk, Tony DiNozzo speaking."

"_Hello, Agent DiNozzo."_

As soon as the voice on the other end of the line sounded, his shoulders slumped in relief. "Dire—I mean, ma'am."

"_Director is fine, Tony… I'm still an agency Director, just not yours."_

"Of course, ma'am."

"_I take it he's not there."_

"No, ma'am—Director. Uh, no. Stepped out for coffee."

"_Well, Cynthia is on her way with the boys. I have an agency function I have to attend, or I would drop them by myself."_

"Oh. Yes, of course." Tony scratched his head. "Uh… we'll, um, keep an eye on them until he gets back, ma'am."

"_Thank you, Tony. Pass on my greetings to everyone, will you?"_

He winced. "Um, yeah, sure."

She laughed musically. _"Feel free to skip Jethro out on the greetings, I know how he gets. Liam and Tommy have my Christmas gift for the team with them, too."_

"Oh, thanks!"

"_It's nothing big, Agent DiNozzo. Just a small thank you for dealing with him and working extra shifts to make sure he has time to spend with the boys. Anyways, I need to get going. Tell Jethro I'll be over on Boxing Day to get the boys."_

"Yes ma'am, will do." Tony hung up the phone with a long sigh of relief, sagging back against the desk. "Dodged that bullet."

"DiNozzo, get your ass off my desk."

He jumped as if scalded, springing away from the desk with a bound. "Sorry, Boss! Won't happen again, Boss!"

Gibbs regarded his senior agent with a glare, slowly sipping the coffee held in his hand. "We get a case?"

"Uh, no… no we did not, Boss!" Tony straightened his posture and nearly came to attention, his eyes fixed on a point behind Gibbs' head as he spoke in a rush. "Director Shepard called and said Cynthia is on her way with the boys. She will be by on Boxing Day to pick them up, and sends her greetings. That is all I have to report, sir."

"Hmph." The silver haired agent grunted and dropped into his chair, flipping the open file on his desk closed. "Well, pack your things, then. When they get here, you can leave."

"Thank you, Boss!" There was a brief mad scramble as the three agents hurried to clear their desks, standing behind each with their packs on their shoulders.

Four heads turned as the elevator dinged, the silver doors sliding open.

"_DADDY!_" Two young boys sprinted from the metal box, character themed backpacks swinging from their shoulders.

The first, who had shouted, reached Gibbs first and flung himself into his knees. He had short cut dark brown hair standing up in spikes with bright green eyes. He stood two inches taller than his brother, who had lighter hair and his father's piercing blue eyes that glanced shyly around the bullpen as he hung back slightly, fidgeting nervously with the rims of his glasses.

Gibbs smiled faintly and bent to pick up the first boy, mussing his hair fondly. "Hey Tommy. You givin' Cynthia trouble?"

Tommy flashed a cocky grin, shaking his head. "No… Momma said you're the one who always gives Cynthia trouble, Daddy."

He chuckled, his gaze focusing on his youngest son. He carefully set Tommy down and raised his hands, signing as he spoke. "Heya, Liam. You gonna come give me a hug?"

Liam grinned, running forward the last few steps to wrap his arms around Gibbs' legs. After a moment he stepped back, raising his own hands to sign. _Hi, Dad._

"Ready for Christmas break, sport?"

_Yes. Do we really get to spend the whole break with you?_ Liam bit his lip, glancing around nervously before he continued. _Momma said you'd probably get a case and we'd be back home before Christmas anyways._

Gibbs winced, pasting a tight smile on his lips. "Whole break, buddy. I promise."

Tony rocked from foot to foot, watching the interaction with a pleading look on his face. "Uh, Boss?"

He snapped his gaze up, waving the three agents off. "Go on… get out of here. We're off rotation until the 26th."

"Thank you, Boss!" They hurried for the elevator, Tony bouncing on the balls of his feet as they waited.

"Tony, wait!" Tommy unzipped his backpack hurriedly, extracting three small wrapped packages. "Momma said to give this to you guys." He handed them off solemnly, looking up at the three with wide eyes. "You'll come over to play with Liam 'n me, right?"

Tony flashed a wide smile, patting his shoulder. "'Course we will. Sledding and snowball fights and working on the boat. We promise."

"Abby and Ducky will come, too." Tim chipped in helpfully, smiling at the little boy.

"Cool!" Tommy grinned, high fiving all three as the elevator arrived. "Bye!"

Gibbs and Liam followed at a more sedate pace, Tommy's backpack gripped in the agent's hands. "C'mon, guys. Let's go home."

* * *

><p>Three hours later, all three Gibbs boys stood in the basement, staring at the half-finished hulk of the boat. Each held a small mason jar of amber liquid—bourbon for Gibbs, apple cider for Liam and Tommy.<p>

"D'you think we're gonna finish it this time, Daddy?" Tommy mimicked his father's stance perfectly, standing with one hand on his hip as they regarded the wooden structure.

Gibbs laughed. "I don't know, son. What do you think, Liam?"

Liam considered briefly. _Maybe if we work through the night. Probably not, though. We still have to build the cabin, and get it out of the basement. Plus, we haven't picked a name for it yet._

He laughed. "Yeah… maybe by this summer, Tommy."

He nodded, taking a sip of apple juice as Gibbs sipped his bourbon. "Probly'd go faster if you worked on it more 'n then just we were visitin', right?"

His brother nodded solemnly, ducking his head as he signed. _And if we told the judge we liked staying with you more than just the holidays._

Gibbs sighed. "Boys… it doesn't matter how long it takes. All that matters is that I get to spend time with you."

"Well, okay." Tommy walked over and picked up two sanding blocks, passing one off to his brother. "Are we ready to go, then?"

"Attaboys."

The basement was filled with the sounds of woodwork for the next few hours, punctuated only by short snippets of conversation and the low hum of the old radio crackling out Christmas tunes.

* * *

><p><em>December 19, 2012<em>

Thomas Jackson Shepard pulled his FBI beanie hat further down over his ears and surveyed the seemingly empty park in front of him, his green eyes narrowed in concentration. He held up one gloved hand, closing it into a small fist.

Tony promptly scrambled up next to him, a small pile of snowballs in his arms.

The boy pointed. "I think they're over that ridge there, just past the twisty slide."

Abby Scuito dove into the snow on his other side, the braided tassels of her skeleton-themed hat fluttering in the wind. "If we split up, we might be able to surround them. Pincer movement, you know."

The Italian shook his head. "Zee-vah will be expecting that."

* * *

><p>William Jasper Shepard hooked his glasses more securely over his ears, turning up the volume on his cochlear implant as he did so. Ziva David crouched silently by his side, efficiently packing a pyramid of snowballs that nearly stood as high as the signpost to her left.<p>

Liam eyed the tree-line to their right warily, his blue eyes focusing on a few high drifts of snow. He tapped Ziva's elbow lightly and signed slowly, working his fingers against the snow gloves. _I'm pretty sure Tommy and the others are going to try to outflank us. We should set up another base in those trees._

"I already sent McGee over there." Ziva grinned. "Tony is not as crafty as he thinks he is."

_If we keep Tim over in the trees, he can ambush them from behind._ He pointed at the play-park next to them. _I can climb up top there to draw them in._

"I will text McGee. What should the signal be to attack?"

Liam grinned, pulling a red Ohio State scarf from under his jacket. _When I wave this._

Ziva frowned, her eyes narrowing. "How did you get that from Tony?"

He shrugged. _My dad's a sniper. How do you think I got it?_

* * *

><p>"Hey… I can't find my scarf." Tony paused in dragging their sled full of snowballs, extracting a hand from the empty pocket of his sweatshirt. "I put it in here for when I got cold."<p>

"You probably just dropped it. We'll find it later." Abby extracted a long black one with purple skulls on it, wrapping it twice around the Italian's neck. "I have an extra… you can borrow it for now."

"But… that was my favorite scarf. I got it at Ohio State."

Tommy shrugged. "Come on… we've got to get around that ridge. I think I saw Liam climbing up that tower."

* * *

><p>Ziva high-fived Liam and collapsed on the park bench, grinning at the sight of the three snow covered people standing in front of them. Tim McGee sat next to them, a smug smile on his own face as he watched a small patch of snow melt and slide down the side of Tony's neck, leaving the hapless agent shivering.<p>

Tony pouted outrageously, his arms folded across his chest like a petulant child. "I vote next time the Ninja-Chick and Probie aren't allowed to be on the same team."

Tommy laughed, brushing snow off of his coat. "It was still fun..."

"Yeah… if Tony hadn't slipped and fallen on his butt, we might have won." Abby giggled at the murderous look the Italian threw her way, stepping forward to fist-bump Liam. "Nice plan, Mini-Gibbs."

Liam ducked his head, smiling shyly. _Thanks._ He shivered, rubbing his arms vigorously to keep warm. _Can we go get hot chocolate now?_

They all piled into the back of Tony and Ziva's cars, driving off in the snow to Tony's apartment.

"Aaalrighty. Six hot chocolates with extra marshmallows, right here!" Tony set the tray down on the coffee table, flopping haphazardly onto the couch. "So what do we want to do?"

Liam glanced at his brother and then back at his father's agents, biting his lip. _Could you tell us about Mom and Dad?_

Abby frowned. "Tell you what?"

"Well, you know…about them." Tommy fiddled with his beanie, swinging his feet back and forth. "We've never really seen them together."

Liam nodded. _And Uncle Ducky just gets sad when we ask._

Tim cleared his throat. "I don't know if we're the right people to tell you about them, guys."

"But we were just little kids when they were still married and now they don't even talk to each other." He rolled his head to the side. "Why did Momma leave Daddy? Uncle Tobias said she didn't always work for the FBI. She used to work with you 'n Daddy, right?"

Ziva sighed. "Your mother used to be the Director of NCIS. She and your father were partners a long time ago."

"In Paris."

"Yes, _thank you_, Tony." She rammed her elbow into his ribs, scowling. "As I was saying. Your mother and father were partners a long time ago, in Paris. Your mom had just joined NCIS, and she was assigned to be your dad's partner."

Tommy and Liam sat silently, both sets of eyes focused on her face. Abby signed along for Liam, although the boy seemed to be mouthing the words on Ziva's lips as she went.

Tim cleared his throat and continued the story. "They worked with Ducky and Decker and your Uncle Tom… they worked all over Europe for a few years. Then, your mom got a transfer to Cairo, Egypt… that's where she met Ziva."

"What about Daddy?"

"He came back to the States and started working with Tony."

"We worked as a two-man team for a while and then we got a case on Air Force One." Tony paused for a moment, taking a deep breath. "Then a new Agent named Kate joined the team."

"Kate Todd." Abby smiled. "She was my best friend."

Tim continued on. "And a few months after that, I met your dad and Tony and Kate. I used to work out of the Norfolk NCIS office… your dad had me transferred to his team after I worked a few cases with them."

"What was Momma doin'?"

Ziva chuckled. "We worked a lot in Egypt and the Middle East. For an American agent, your mother was surprisingly well traveled."

Liam clapped his hands, waving for attention. _But how did Mom and Dad get back together? All you've told us is when they weren't together._

The Italian cleared his throat noisily, swiping a hand across his face. "Right. Uh… well, Jenny—I mean, the Director… er, your Mom came back to D.C. in 2005. She took your Uncle Tom's place as Director of NCIS."

"And for a few months, no one was really sure if your Mom and Dad were together or not."

"Yeah, thanks, Abby. Anyways, it was like…oh, I don't know, February or March of 2006 when your mom and dad announced that she was pregnant and they were getting married."

"They got married that July, and then in November you guys were born."

_So how long were they married?_

Tony winced, raising a hand to count. "Um… almost 23 months, total."

"They didn't even last two whole years?"

"Well, I mean… your mom moved back into her house in June and took you guys with her. They didn't officially split on paper until October, but… well, you know."

_Wow_.

"Wow."

Tommy and Liam both stared, astounded.

"Yes." Ziva sighed. "It is not a happy story, but your parents both love you more than anything."

The green eyed boy shrugged. "But they've never dated anyone else since."

The four agents looked at them, confused. "What?"

Liam smirked. _Mom and Dad. They've never gone out with anyone else. Mom goes to her agency things by herself or she brings Uncle Toby. Dad just doesn't date._

Tony scratched his head. "I don't get it."

Abby and Ziva understood first, the realization dawning fast in their eyes as two opposing reactions were voiced.

"I am not so sure that is a good idea."

"Oh my gosh that is the best plan ever!"

Tim scratched his head in unison with Tony, looking even more confused. "We still don't get it."

The Goth clapped her hands excitedly, bouncing in her seat. "Don't you see? Gibbs and Jenny broke up over all that stupid stuff back then but they've never dated anyone since! This is perfect!"

"I… _what?"_

Ziva sighed. "They want to get Gibbs and Jenny back together."

"Oh." The two men nodded. "Hold on… you want us to try and get the Boss and the Director back together."

_Mom still keeps a picture of them in her bedside drawer. And she wears one of Dad's old NCIS shirts to bed._

"Dad has Mom's old coat in his closet and he keeps a bottle of her perfume on his dresser."

Tony blinked, staring at the twins with a new light in his eyes. "Remind me to never let the two of you look around my apartment."

Tommy smirked. "Don't worry… we won't tell Mom and Dad about the magazines."

"What magazines?"

"Nothing, nothing…" He changed the subject rapidly. "So how exactly do you plan on doing this?"

Liam shrugged. _We ask Santa._

"But Sa—_mmmpfh!_" The Italian's reply was rapidly cut off by three separate sets of hands covering his mouth.

Tim glared, pasting a cheery smile on his face. "That's a great idea, Liam."

"Only thing is, we'll have to hurry. Dad always says the post takes a long time to get anywhere."

He smiled reassuringly, winking. "Don't worry, kiddo. I know people who can get letters to the North Pole, okay?"

Liam grinned widely, jumping up. _Right. Let's get to it!_

* * *

><p><em>December 22, 2012<em>

Jethro Gibbs stared at the two small envelopes sitting on his workbench, a faint frown creasing his forehead.

They definitely hadn't been there before he left for the lumber yard. The team had dropped off the boys two hours ago, and he had been upstairs for most of the time with them.

A sticky-note laid in front of the envelopes, covered in a short scrawl of writing.

_Hey El Jefe!_

_It's Abby. And Tony. And Timmy. And Ziva._

_Well, you know… Us._

_Anyways, while we were out with the guys earlier this week, they mentioned they hadn't had time to write their letters to the Big Man, so we got them paper and pen and let 'em go at it!_

_We figured you'd have a pretty good idea what to do with them._

_-A.S., T.D., T.M., Z.D._

He smirked, cocking his head to listen up the stairs to ensure the boys were sound asleep in the fort that had taken over his living room. With a quiet click, the blade of his pocketknife snapped out, slicing through the thin tape holding the envelopes closed.

He poured a measure of bourbon into his cleanest mason jar and perched his glasses on his nose, settling down on the stool next to the boat to read. As his eyes traveled down the short lists, his silver eyebrows rose higher and higher.

_{Deer}_

_Dear Santa,_

_Hi. My name is Tommy Shepard. I am six {years}__ years old and in {__kindergarden}__ kindergarten . I know this letter is getting to you late but I only have one thing I want for {__Crist}__ Christmas._

_If it is not too much {__trubble}__ trouble I want my Mom and Dad, Jenny Shepard and Leroy Jethro Gibbs, to get back together._

_They was {__mary}__ married when my brother Liam and I were real little but now they are not and I know it is a lot to ask but I just want my family again._

_{Love}_

_{Senseer} __Sincerely,_

_Thomas Jackson Shepard_

_P.S. Also if I could __maybee__ maybe have a new bike and a LEGO Star Wars playset._

_P.P.S. And if Mom could let Liam and me play football this spring._

_P.P.P.S. I hope you have a {__Mary}__ Merry Christmas._

_Santa,_

_My name is William Jasper Shepard. I hope this letter finds you well._

_I am writing to you to ask you for one thing for Christmas this year._

_My mom and dad are not together but my brother and me just want our family to be together again._

_They don't go out with anyone else so it should be okay for them to be together again._

_Thank you,_

_Liam Shepard_

_P.S. If it is not too much to ask, a new set of wood tools for my dad and a new bottle of perfume to for mom to fix the one Tommy accidentally broke. And a new Redskins hat for Tommy. And a LEGO Doctor Who set._

_P.P.S. And a puppy for Tommy and me. _

* * *

><p><em>December 24, 2012<em>

Jenny Shepard glanced over the files on her desk with a tired sigh. The house just didn't seem the same without Liam and Tommy running around.

She glanced at the clock, frowning at the late hour. It was Christmas Eve, eleven o'clock at night, and she was alone.

What had happened? She used to be so happy.

Jenny resolutely ignored the single picture sitting on her desk, preferring to block the reminder of good times past. They didn't work out two times… she didn't think she had a third time in her.

The shrill ringing of her house phone broke her reverie.

"Hello?"

There was a long pause on the other end of the line, and then finally he spoke.

"_Hey, Jen."_

"Jethro."

"_Yeah."_

"Is something wrong with one of the boys? Did I forget to pack Liam's medicine?"

"_No, no…" _

The line fell silent for a long moment.

"Jethro?"

He cleared his throat, his voice gruff. "_I, uh… listen—d'you want to come over tomorrow? It's not very fair that you have to miss Christmas with them."_

Jenny leaned forward, surprised. "You… you want me to come over?"

"_If you want to."_

"I thought you wanted to spend time with Liam and Tommy?"

"_I have."_ Gibbs coughed. "_I think we can handle one day together for the kids, don't you?"_

"Alright, then." She sat back, a smile growing on her face. "What time?"

"_Uh… now?"_

"Okay I'll be ri—hold on a second…you put off wrapping presents again, didn't you?"

There was a guilty pause on the other end of the line. _"No."_

"Liar."

"_Are ya comin' or not, Jen?"_

"Give me twenty minutes. And I swear, Jethro, you better have some damn wrapping paper."

* * *

><p>Jenny slipped through the unlocked front door easily with a box of wrapping accessories in her arms, depositing them in the front hallway to shut the door.<p>

Her eyebrows rose at the veritable bombshell that was Jethro's living room, a faint smirk tugging the corners of her mouth upwards.

She picked her way past the twin racing bikes and the small yipping box she strongly suspected held a puppy and made her way to the basement, leaning lazily on the stair rail.

"Jethro."

He looked up from the assembly of what looked like half of a pirate ship playset, blinking in the low light.

"Hey, Jen." Gibbs set the wrench down, wiping his hands off on his jeans. "There's beer in the fridge… or I got bourbon."

"Mason jar will do fine." She made her way down the stairs carefully, picking her way past oddly wrapped parcels. After she poured herself a jar of the amber liquid, Jenny hopped up on the workbench, regarding him shrewdly over the rim of her impromptu cup. "So why the sudden niceties? You get a new girlfriend, or something?"

He threw her a dirty look, jerking his head towards the shelf above her head.

She reached up, pulling down two slips of paper. "What is… oh."

Gibbs waited patiently as she read, sipping his bourbon slowly.

"How did you…"

"The team." He shrugged. "They took 'em all day Wednesday so I could get a head start on Christmas shopping. According to David, they asked about us… when we were still us."

"And they _told_ them?"

"Cliffsnotes version, Abs said. Nothin' bad."

"So you want to…"

He sighed heavily, setting down his jar. "I told Vance I was about ready to retire when we talked about vacation this year. I'm due up for my pension, and he said they'd keep me on in an advisory capacity. I'd teach three Interrogation classes a month at FLET-C, and the occasional marksmanship class."

"You'd just leave NCIS, like that."

"_You_ did."

"That was…"

"Exactly." Gibbs scratched the back of his neck, shrugging. "I'm getting too old to be doin' this anymore. Not with the boys here. I can't be an absent father. Besides… DiNozzo's ready. Hell, he's been ready for years. It's time he made his own mark instead 'a working as my second."

"So…"

"Look. You said when I was ready to stop putting the job first, we could talk again." He gave her an earnest look, his typical half smile quirking his lips. "I'm ready to put you and the kids first. I'm happy."

* * *

><p>"Momma!" Tommy bounded down the stairs just in front of his brother, a delighted grin on his face. "What are you doin' here?"<p>

"Santa dropped her off." Gibbs deposited a fresh mug of coffee in her hands as he passed, exchanging a secret smirk and wink.

Jenny smiled, opening her arms to her sons. "Your Dad and I thought it might be nice to start a new thing… try a family Christmas, you know?"

Liam rubbed his eyes sleepily, signing through a huge yawn. _Hi, Mom._

Gibbs chuckled, collapsing on the couch next to her. "Why don't you guys open your presents, huh? Maybe start with that big box over there."

Tommy and Liam circled the box warily, searching for a good point of entry.

Slowly, Jenny slid her hand over from where it rested in her lap, curling her fingers around his hand resting on his knee. Gibbs glanced sideways and flipped his hand over, lacing his fingers between hers.

"What is—IT'S A PUPPY!"

_You got us a puppy?_

Liam spun around, his face alight with happiness. His gaze zeroed in on his parents' clasped hands.

_Does this mean you guys are back together now?_

Jenny grinned, turning to meet a pair of bright blue eyes. Gibbs smiled back, squeezing her hand.


	3. Sugar and Snow Pandora of Ithilien

**Title:** Sugar and Snow

**Author:** Pandora of Ithilien

**For:** fredesrojo

**Rating:** K+

**Disclaimer**: Alex and Xander are mine, NCIS is not.

**A/N**: I hope this works as snow!

It was Christmas Eve, but as the cliché went, crime didn't take a holiday, with the result that it was nearly nine o'clock before Jenny and Jethro managed to get back to the townhouse. The scent of something baking and two people laughing welcomed them when they pushed the door open, and Jethro glanced at his wife, a hint of a smile on his face. "Think they destroyed your kitchen?"

"It's more like Jimena's kitchen; you know I can't boil water. And I doubt it; Alex can't cook any better than I can but for some reason she's a baking genius. But we should go check anyway."

They headed for the kitchen, and, well... It wasn't quite a disaster zone, though their six-year-old son had flour in his hair, as did Jenny's thirty-three-year-old sister. "Did the bag of flour explode?" Jenny asked dryly.

Two pairs of eyes the same bright green as Jenny's own fixed on the couple, and Xander laughed, running a hand through his dark hair. "No, Mommy, we had a flour fight!"

"Oh, really," Jenny said, raising an eyebrow at her sister, who held up her hands in mock-surrender.

"Hey, we cleaned most of it up, except for our hair," Alex said with a laugh. "Come on, Jethro, back us up here," she added, appealing to her brother-in-law.

"Oh no, I'm not getting involved in a fight between redheads, especially redheaded Shepard women. Rule 52."

"Maybe nobody should fight at all," Xander cut in then. "We're making cookies, snickerdoodles and chocolate chip in Christmas shapes. You should come help instead of fighting," he continued seriously. Jenny and Jethro exchanged a look.

"Well, why not?" Jenny said with a laugh. And that was what they did for the next thirty minutes, using Christmas cookie cutters on chocolate chip and snickerdoodle cookie dough. Jethro commented that they'd have to bring boxes into work – both the Navy Yard and Alex's job at the NSA – and to Xander's school in order to make sure they all got eaten.

"I can eat them!" Xander objected immediately.

"And then you'd have a stomach ache and be on a sugar high," Jethro told him. "Trust me, you don't want either of those, and your mom and I don't want you to have them either."

Xander pouted, but was almost immediately distracted when he looked outside. "It's snowing! Can we go make a snowman? Please?"

Normally, Jenny would say no. It was nine-thirty at night, and Xander was only six. But it was also Christmas Eve, and she had a hard time saying no to those puppy-dog eyes her son gave her. Those at work who only knew the hard-ass Madam Director would be shocked if they knew – which was why no one but Jethro's team would ever be trusted to witness it.

So, after collecting hats, gloves, scarves, and coats, they headed out to the backyard, fresh snow crunching under their feet. She wasn't expecting it when the first snowball flew, hitting her in the knee, and she was even more surprised to realize it had come from Jethro.

"What was that?"

"I'm thinking a snowball fight," her husband said with a smirk she remembered from Paris, when she'd discovered that her tough-as-nails partner had a prankster streak in him. They'd had fun in that little war, hadn't they?

"Oh really?"

"Yeah. Gibbs men against Shepard women, how about it?"

"Yeah!" Xander said, running over to his dad's side. Laughing, Jenny glanced at Alex, who smirked. Soon the air was full of flying snowballs, the bright laughter of a child, and the occasional chuckles and snarky comments from the adults.

Jenny heard footsteps behind her, but didn't have time to react before she was tugged down, but she twisted enough so that she landed on top of Jethro – if he wanted them on the ground, let him deal with the cold snow! She smirked down at him, but made no move to break out of his hold. She could still hear her son and her sister acting like the children only one of them was in the background, but her world had narrowed down to the blue eyes looking up at her.

"Merry Christmas," she murmured, leaning down to kiss him, feeling him smile as their lips touched. Pulling away, looking down at him again, she found herself thinking that she'd always wanted this. A career she was proud of, a family she loved... She'd forgotten it, once, in a quest for vengeance that had been proven misguided, but on nights like this, she wondered how she'd ever done so.

But at least she'd never do it again.

"Ew, kissing! Mommy, Daddy, stop it!" Xander's disgusted voice broke them from their reverie, and Jenny and Jethro stood, brushing snow off their clothes. Xander was starting to droop a little, which meant it was time to go in, have some hot chocolate in true Shepard tradition, and go to bed. Jenny slid her hand into Jethro's as they headed inside, one more little reminder of all they finally had.


	4. First Christmas DD Agent

**Title: **First Christmas

**Author: **DD Agent

**For:** Petra Igraine

**Rating: **T

**Author's Note:** spoilers for JD and season 8 and 9, albeit small ones

"You know, boss, you _can_ head off early."

Leroy Jethro Gibbs looked up from his computer screen to see Tony DiNozzo smiling at him. Like he was going to go home early - he wasn't that stupid. But something in Tony's face actually seemed sincere, like he wasn't looking for an excuse to skip work. Jethro looked around to see that McGee and Ziva were also looking at him, grinning like some sort of demented Christmas trio.

Tim was the next to speak. "Yeah boss, feel free to go. I bet you and the Director have lots of plans."

Jethro shrugged. "Maybe when she gets back from Paris." He hadn't given it a lot of thought. At least not the thoughts he was willing to share with his team.

Tony exchanged danger looks with Tim, the senior field agent not sure why Gibbs wasn't a cross between a nervous wreck and a happy man. "But, Gibbs, it's your first Christmas as a married couple!"

"So?"

Jethro leaned back, taking in his team who were staring at him with incredulous looks on their face. What was so important about Christmas? He didn't get it, not any longer. His Christmas plans just involved heading out when the clock hit five - thankful that they had finished their case - and going back to his new house to wait for his wife to come back from her anti terrorist conference from Paris.

Ducky, who had since joined the inquisition with port and Abby, passed him a slice of Christmas cake as he thought about Jenny coming home. He missed her. "So, Jethro, what do you have planned for Christmas with Jenny?"

He shrugged. "Chinese, maybe bourbon. It's just Christmas, Duck, and we've been busy. Jenny will understand why we don't have a tree."

Jethro looked up to see Abby whimper. "No tree? But Gibbs!"

Ducky made a head gesture that Jethro believed suggested that they all go off and enjoy their Christmas cake while he talked sense into their boss. He grabbed a chair from an empty desk and brought it over to Jethro. The former marine was starting to get a little worried about Jenny's return.

After the showdown with Svetlana in the diner in LA, he and Jenny had slowly begun dating. After a year or so, he had proposed and they had married in August with a small ceremony, just friends and a few family. Both wanting a fresh start and after many tearful arguments, they had both sold their old houses and bought a medium sized place in the middle of nowhere together. Gibbs still had his basement, Jenny had a large study. This would be the first Christmas they would spend as a married couple, and the first in that house.

Yeah, he was definitely starting to get worried.

"Jethro, I know Jenny will understand. After all, she's been there herself," Ducky started. "But…Jethro, do you remember our first Christmas in Paris?"

Jethro chuckled, memories bombarding him. "Yeah I do. Jenny - I still don't know how she found that huge tree. All those lights. I remember when it started snowing - she started crying."

Ducky nodded, trying to encourage his friend to put the pieces together. "Jethro, you must know by now that Jenny adores this holiday."

"I know that, Duck! I am her husband. She loves the lights, the music. She loves the feeling of family at Christmas," Jethro explained, then realising why he should have been making more of an effort the week before Christmas. He hadn't even bought her a present yet. He had been so focussed on the case. It had been a child murder, there was no way he could let that slide. Was this a sign of things to come? He didn't want his marriage to Jenny to be like all the others.

"Jenny will understand, Duck. I'll get some lights on the way home."

Ducky nodded, slightly apprehensive. "On Christmas Eve, Jethro? Good luck."

Before Jethro could respond to the ME, his pocket started to ring with a call from Jenny. He took it out and pressed the answer button, trying to resist the blooming smile on his face at the prospect of hearing from his wife. "Ma'am."

"_I take it you're in the bullpen, Jethro?"_

He chuckled. "What would give you that idea?"

Jenny laughed on the other end of the phone. He could imagine her smiling, that bright smile as she stared at him. _"Because you called me ma'am. You only do that at work. Well, mostly at work. I do remember sometimes when we've been in…"_

"How's Paris?"

That caught his team's attention, and he decided to move away to stop the eavesdropping. Jethro shifted from his desk and walked over to the large window in the bullpen where he could look out over the Navy Yard. The clouds looked like they were going to pour snow very soon. Hopefully not too soon. He didn't want his wife to be stuck in Paris over Christmas without him. If it wasn't for the case that had sprung up, he would have been there with her, reacquainting himself with the city and making love to his wife every chance he got.

_"Me and the Capital miss you. Just wanted to give you a quick call, just about to get on the plane back to DC. I should be there around eleven, although knowing the airport I'll probably be in DC just as Santa is."_

Jethro chuckled. "I miss you too, Jen. Listen, about the whole Christmas thing…"

He could almost hear the patient smile over the end of the phone. "_Jethro, Chinese and bourbon will be fine. I know the case has taken a lot out of you. To be honest, I wasn't expecting anything more than that. I did, however, take some time this week to pick up your present. Well, two presents, but one is more for both of us. Do you remember that little lingerie shop just around the corner from our old safe house?"_

Jethro mumbled something about remembering and she started giving hints about her special gift. Jethro didn't think he could breathe. She was giving him an out - he had been working hard on the case. He hadn't really given it much thought. He remembered the Christmases he had spent with wives of Christmas past. They had done all the organising, and he had ended up spending most of the day in his basement anyway. He hadn't felt like celebrating Christmas properly since Shannon and Kelly died.

But his marriage with Jenny was different. They both accepted the need to have space; both knew the other so well that when they needed comfort they were automatically there. When Jenny fell asleep in the study after working hard, he would carry her to bed. When he ended up falling asleep in his new basement, she would lie down beside him. He hated the fact that he had automatically started treating this marriage like his others, when it was far from it.

Standing in front of the window, watching as the first few snowflakes began to fall, Jethro believed he was ready to start celebrating again.

"Jen…Christmas won't just be Chinese and bourbon. I've got the whole thing this year. Tree, food…presents. This is our first Christmas together married, and in our first home together. I want it to be special for you. For us."

Resting his head against the glass, Jethro wanted more than anything to make his wife smile on Christmas. There was a pause on the other end of the phone before Jenny spoke again. He could hear the tremor in her voice, the tremor only he was allowed to hear. Love was not a weakness; it was something special just between them.

"_I love you Jethro. More than anything."_

He grinned, his heart almost hurting at the sound of her voice. "I love you too, Jen. Now get on that damn plane and come home for Christmas."

_"Yes boss."_

And just like that, she was gone.

Jethro put his phone back into his pocket and breathed out deeply. It was Christmas Eve. Jenny would be due back in eight hours. He needed to produce a Christmas miracle. He turned back to his team and walked over to his desk, his body in some sort of shellshock.

"Boss, you haven't…"

"I know McGee."

"And you have no…"

"I know Ziva."

There was a pause before Tony spoke. "We'll help you boss. Produce a Christmas miracle for you and the Director."

Jethro looked up and saw his team - his family - smiling at him. Abby was the most excited to be helping him. The rest of them weren't so excited, just resolute to do whatever needed to be done to help him out. After all, both Gibbs and the Director had gone to hell and back for them over the last six years. It was the least they could do.

"Thank you. All of you thank you."

Abby took charge at that point, standing next to Gibbs and pointing at all of them in turn. "Okay, we need decorations, food and presents. McGee - you're in charge of decorations. I want you to go see if you can pick up a Christmas tree and lights and things. If you can't, you have my permission to use my emergency decorations."

McGee nodded while Ducky pressed his emergency key to the Shepard-Gibbs residence into his palm. "Okay, anything else I need to do?"

Gibbs rubbed the back of his neck. "Could you hook up the stereo and television, McGee? We haven't had time."

"You moved in there in August," McGee stated, but didn't continue his line of thought. He just took the key and went on his way to his bosses' house. They all knew the way, they had spent Thanksgiving there. When he was gone, Abby then turned to Ziva and Tony.

"You two are in charge of food. Make sure to get lots of bourbon. Gibbs and I will go present shopping and Ducky will…"

Ducky coughed. "Sadly, I have a body to attend to. But is there anything I can do here?"

Jethro thought for a moment. "Jenny may call to check up on me…" And for other things that his team did _not _need to know about. "I need you to make sure that nothing goes wrong, that she doesn't suspect a thing. Because if she does then she'll find a way to get home quicker."

"Boss, come on," Tony tried to interject but Ducky shook his head.

"Tony, Jenny is capable of all sorts of things. Especially when it concerns Jethro. So best not to let on. Shall we get down to business?" Ducky grinned, happy to be helping out.

The team nodded, and they all started to go their separate ways. Jethro turned to the window where the snow was falling outside. He would make this first Christmas with Jenny as magical and memorable as he could. They both deserved that.

* * *

><p>Tim McGee was spending tomorrow with his grandmother, and he was looking incredibly forward to spending Christmas with more family than just his little sister. He personally believed that everyone should have a good Christmas, without anyone declaring things off limits, or anyone making you stand out in the snow for opening a present before anyone else.<p>

He was more than happy to help out the Director and Gibbs, especially as they - well, mostly the Director - were responsible for his next book. During the McCallister nightmare, Tim had acted as the Director's protection detail and she had told him all about how she and Gibbs had met. He was currently in the midst of publishing the prequel story of LJ Tibbs and Director Leonard for an early spring release, leading to a third present day Deep Six novel.

Soon all thoughts of writing were driven out of his head as he arrived at the house. The Gibbs-Shepard residence was a reasonably large property tucked away in Virginia. The nearest neighbour was half a mile away, and they had a _huge _garden. He knew that the Director was trying to talk the boss into getting a puppy. Or three. Inside, it reminded Tim of the Director's previous property in Georgetown, except there were more photographs up.

Moving into the hall, Tim found that there was a huge wedding picture of the two of them up there. It was beautiful. His boss wasn't able to keep his eyes off of the Director, and she looked stunning in the traditional white dress. It had been a good wedding, lots of old friends and sweet statements. Tucked into the frame was a picture of their first married kiss, the photograph having been taken by Abby.

He was happy they were happy. Right now, though, he needed to make Christmas.

"Tree first."

He wasn't sure whether Gibbs would want to decorate the tree, but he had brought a huge box of cheap decorations he had found from a closing down store on his way to get the tree. The first three places he had stopped at hadn't had any left, and the fourth place only had one the owner was bringing home for himself. McGee had paid the man three hundred dollars to take the tree.

It now stood in the living room of the Gibbs-Shepard residence, looking sparse amongst the surprising warmth of the room. Tim moved over and poked at the fire he had built in the hearth. Once it was all decorated, this would be the perfect Christmas for them both.

Tim then turned to the box of decorations when a thought came to him. "I wonder if they have their own decorations."

Taking the emergency key, Tim went looking for their storage room. He avoided the master bedroom and spare bedrooms and climbed the back stairs up to the attic. There were only a few things up there; the house was big enough for the both of them and their memories. Using a flashlight from his backpack, he managed to find the box of decorations.

There were some very ornamental lights, lots of tinsel. Lots of boxes of baubles and decorations from all across the world. There was a little note on the packet of each one, and Tim realised that the Director had something beautiful from every place she had ever visited, most of them with his boss.

At the bottom of the box, Tim pulled out a few photographs that had been trapped there. He looked them over; saw the smiling faces of both his bosses at various Christmases over the years. They looked so happy. They looked so _young_.

He wondered why they were at the bottom of the box instead of up around the house. Then he remembered how his new spring release was going to end. Tim believed they both needed a good Christmas.

* * *

><p>"Food shopping. On Christmas Eve. Gibbs hates us."<p>

Ziva rolled her eyes as they pushed the shopping cart through the grocery store. "Don't be silly, Tony. He merely didn't trust you not to go through the Director's underwear."

Tony stood in the cheese section, looking pained. They had been sniping all the way to the grocery store, and now they were five minutes into the shopping neither one could see that changing. "I wouldn't have gone through Jenny's underwear, thank you. I have a bit more class than that. Although I can just imagine what she picked up from Paris for Gibbs' Christmas present."

The former Mossad officer put a selection of cheeses in the cart, and then moved into the next aisle. She had no clue what she was truly getting, but after working with Jenny for two years she knew what the Director liked and what she didn't. Most of the shopping cart was going to be taken up by the necessary bourbon purchases anyway.

"I don't really want to think about the Director's choice of underwear, Tony," Ziva stated as she moved onto the meat section. A turkey. Perfect.

"Probably green, to match her eyes," Tony fantasised to himself at the top of the aisle. He didn't deny he was attracted to the Director, and who knows what would have happened if Gibbs hadn't come back? But he had, and Tony had turned his eyes to his own partner. "Ziva, put that guy down."

Ziva had been threatening a man with a small switchblade who had tried to take the last turkey. After being chastised, she put it back in her pocket before turning back down the aisle with the turkey now in her cart.

Tony sighed and followed her onwards. He picked up some packets of salami and tossed them in there as they headed into the sauces. Ziva started putting in things she knew Jenny liked. Tony tossed in things that he knew both of them would eat - stuff that would be easy to cook and wouldn't spoil too easily.

"Tony, we are trying to create a wonderful Christmas meal. Not something average."

She was behind the cart, and Tony stood grinning at the bottom of it, resting on the metal frame. "Ziva, let me explain a married couple's Christmas to you. Especially that _first _Christmas. While they may indulge in this turkey that you so helpfully nearly murdered for, and may enjoy the stuffing, cranberries, maybe French dessert we're sure to buy - this will all go to waste because my dear Ziva, they're not going to be eating come the main course. They're going to be naked in bed together."

She rolled her eyes and continued on with the shopping. Ziva put some crackers - both edible and not - in the cart before wondering what other snack things they would need over the Christmas weekend. Tony eventually caught up with her.

"You needn't be so crass, Tony. Christmas is about being together, yes, but they aren't animals," Ziva told him, putting some more food in the cart for them to snack on.

Her partner shrugged. "She's been in Paris all week, and they've both been working so hard since they got back from their honeymoon that they probably haven't had a proper chance to be together. They won't even look at the decorations."

Ziva shook her head. She knew her partner wasn't a big fan of Christmas, but why was he trying to make a mockery of everything they were doing? It was just something nice for their family at a time when they need something magical. "Tony, you astound me. Tell me, what are you going to be doing this holiday? Peeking in through their windows?"

Tony took the cart from her and headed it off in the direction of the homeware department. Ziva, angry that she hadn't received an answer, followed him closely, watching as he put candles and matches in the cart. He looked up from her and smiled.

"On Christmas, its tradition to light a candle for someone who is no longer here. Well, it is with me. Not a big fan of Christmas, Ziva, haven't been since I lost my Mom. I'm sure that since Gibbs lost Shannon and Kelly, he hasn't wanted to celebrate either." He shrugged. "I just don't understand why people go to all this trouble for one day."

Ziva ran a hand over his cheek. "Because, from what I understand, Tony, Christmas is magic. Everyone needs a little magic. Even you."

The former Mossad officer went in the direction of the alcohol, leaving Tony behind to think. It had been a while since Christmas was truly special to him. Maybe this year things would change.

* * *

><p>Abby had wrapped up as warm as her short skirt dictated as she and her honorary father hit the DC streets the day before Christmas. Gibbs had put his NCIS beanie hat over his ears, trying to keep them warm. He hadn't been out Christmas Eve shopping since Kelly was alive, and since then had avoided it all by usually giving his wives the money to buy what they wanted. It was easier that way. But now he had to think of something wonderful to give his new wife that did not involve a puppy.<p>

"Do you have any ideas, Gibbs?" Abby asked as they moved into their second hour of searching.

He shrugged. "No I don't, Abs. Usually I just get Jenny bourbon."

He received a head slap for that suggestion and a finger wagged in his direction. "Gibbs! Christmas shouldn't be about getting things people need, or… mainline. I could get both you and the Director coffee and bourbon. Or coffee flavoured bourbon or bourbon flavoured coffee. But they wouldn't be good Christmas presents."

Gibbs nodded, sticking his hands in his pockets and resisting the urge to take out his gun to shoot himself. He hated present shopping. Bourbon had always been easy. And he wasn't getting Jenny a puppy.

"So I should get something Jenny _wants_." He sighed. "She doesn't want anything."

"I bet she does! What do you want for Christmas, Gibbs?" Abby asked earnestly in the middle of the busy shopping streets of DC.

Jethro stood there, smiling amongst the masses of Christmas shoppers. "The only thing I wanted, Abby, I have."

The forensic tech smiled at him. "Jenny."

He grinned, remembering his wife's smile. "Jenny."

They continued down the DC streets, Abby reaching over to push her hand into Gibbs'. It was a nice feeling, to walk through the snowy streets with his daughter shopping for his wife. The small pang in his heart of Christmases that would never come was overwritten by Abby pulling him towards a pet shop.

"I am not getting Jenny a puppy. No matter how much she begs. Maybe a tarantula," Gibbs smirked, remembering that his wife had had one as a young girl. Which the cat had eaten. He did remember the story ended with Jenny asking her parents for a black widow and them refusing on the basis that the spider might eat _her_.

Abby shook her head as they continued to think of the things that he could get Jenny for Christmas. The Goth had her thinking face on. "It has to be spectacular. When people come over your house or she goes out and people ask about it, she has to say that this is what my husband got me for our very first Christmas together. It _has _to be impressive. How about a baby?"

Gibbs looked at Abby, his forehead knotted. He hated Christmas shopping. "I think we're both a little past having kids, Abby."

She shook her head, grinning all the while. "The Director is in _great _shape and so are you, _el jefe_. Plus, I want a little brother or sister."

He chuckled before pressing his lips to Abby's cheek. "Maybe one day, Abs. Maybe one day."

They continued on, Gibbs trying to think about what would be the perfect present and coming up with nothing. That was until he caught sight of a book in the window of a second hand book store. He grinned, his eyes flicking over the hand drawn decorations of the cover. Perfect.

* * *

><p>Ducky was elbows deep in the cavity of a man's chest when his mobile phone started to ring. Sighing to himself and knowing <em>exactly <em>who that was, Ducky asked Jimmy to pick it up for him. Jimmy swallowed as he saw the picture of Director Shepard on the front of the phone. Gathering up his courage, he answered it.

"Doctor Mallard's phone."

_"Mister Palmer, its Director Shepard. Is Doctor Mallard available at the moment?"_

She sounded a little upset, and a lot worried. Jimmy had only heard stories of the Director being both of those things, and he didn't like the idea of having a conversation where she was in that state of mind. Knowing his luck, he would end up fired and Breena's father would have another reason not to like him.

"I'm afraid not, Director. We're working on the Bitman case."

_"Jimmy…" _Oh god. It was bad. She had called him Jimmy. _"Do you know where my husband is?"_

He had been brought in on their little scheme to make the Director and Gibbs have a perfect first Christmas together. By now they all would be on their way to their home to get the last few minute touches done before the Director touched down. That was a point, actually. How was she talking to him?

It was at that point that thankfully Doctor Mallard rescued him and he took the phone from Jimmy to talk to the Director. "Jennifer, are you calling from the airplane?"

Ducky only called the Director by her full first name when things were bad, so Jimmy decided to head out for a chocolate bar. Ducky rubbed the bridge of his nose as he sat on a stool and listened to the sound of Jenny's breathing. He had had many similar calls that week, the young woman worrying about what to get her husband for Christmas. Sometimes they were so similar it was frightening.

"_I tried to call Jethro, Ducky, and he's not picking up. I'm worried."_

"Well he does like to be out of contact. I always believed that rule to be one of Mike Franks'."

He heard Jenny laugh at the other end of the phone. _"Yeah, I think it was. Doesn't stop me being worried, Ducky. He'd pick up if it was me. The only time he hasn't… things have been bad. Are they working a new case?"_

"No…. Jethro is just… out." Ducky didn't know what to do. He couldn't let on what was going on, but he had to give Jenny some news about what her husband was doing, rather than he had just popped out for coffee. However, his mere reluctance to share what was going on led to the agent in Jenny making a rather spot on assumption.

_"He forgot Christmas, didn't he?" _His pause was an omission. "_My husband is out on Christmas Eve trying to put Christmas together for me, isn't he?"_

Ducky smiled, hoping Jethro wouldn't kill him. "Yes, he is."

He could almost feel the smile on the other end of the phone. "_When you talk to him next, tell him all I need for Christmas is him."_

"I shall."

Ducky closed the phone and turned back to the dead body in front of him. Some days, especially at Christmas, he wished he had found someone to spend the holidays with. In the New Year he would have to try harder, for he was jealous of Jethro and what he had for the first time he could remember. Smiling to himself, Ducky turned to Jimmy as he came back into Autopsy.

"Come on Mister Palmer; let's get Mister Bitman done so Christmas can begin."

* * *

><p>Jethro had just parked in his driveway after spending another couple of hours getting a few more presents for Jenny when she texted him, announcing she had just arrived in Dulles airport and it wouldn't be long before she would be at their home. Growling, Jethro slammed his car door shut and headed inside.<p>

Once inside, he noticed that there was a sprig of mistletoe over the doorway. Walking down the hallway, he turned right and entered the large living room. The fireplace was roaring; there were even a couple of stockings over the mantle. A fully decorated Christmas tree with decorations from all over the world was in the corner. He walked over and placed Jenny's store wrapped presents under the tree.

"This is incredible."

Gibbs turned around to the doorway to see Tim standing there. McGee grinned and pressed a button on a remote Gibbs wasn't even sure if they owned. Christmas music began to play. The agent tossed the remote to him. "Couple of CD's are loaded. The whole house is decorated - even put a little sprig of mistletoe over your bedroom door. But I didn't go in, I swear boss."

Jethro patted him on the shoulder, and then gripped his cheek "Thank you Tim. Now get on home and celebrate. Merry Christmas."

He had helped with the miracle, and now his family were waiting for him. "Merry Christmas, Jethro."

Once the door had closed shut on Tim, Jethro headed into the kitchen. The dishes that he had left dirty the night before were now clean. The refrigerator and freezer were filled with food. There was even a chilled bottle of bourbon on the side with two glasses and a selection of Christmas cookies. In the oven there was a turkey all ready to be cooked the next day. More than enough food for them both.

"I hope you and the Director have a good Christmas, Gibbs," Tony whispered from the doorway.

Looking around at the food and drink his senior field agent had acquired, Jethro smiled. "Thank you, Tony. And thank Ziva when you see her."

Tony grinned at that. "She's getting a bag; she's spending the holidays with me. We're going to light candles and share traditions and maybe start enjoying the holidays. Gibbs, I…"

Like with Tim, Gibbs rested his hands on Tony's shoulders. His kids were all grown up, a thought which both made him sad and pleased him to no end. "Don't do what I did, Tony, and wait so long before you share the holidays with someone. Start enjoying them again. Because there's magic to be had, here. Magic to be had with people." He patted his shoulder. "Now go on, get out of here. I gotta welcome my wife back.

Tony grinned and headed out the doorway. After a few moments, Tony poked his head back through. "Boss, I bought some strawberries and whipped cream for… dessert. It's important to have a good dessert at Christmas."

The two men shared a smile as Tony headed back out of the house and off to celebrate his own holidays. Jimmy was with his fiancée and her family. Ducky… he didn't know what Ducky was doing. The day after Christmas, he would invite the Medical Examiner over. In Britain they had an extra Christmas celebration, he could celebrate with them.

Moving out of the kitchen, he saw Abby staring at the big picture of him and Jenny on their wedding day. He grinned at the photo Abby had squeezed into the frame on Thanksgiving. She smiled at him and gave him a great big hug. She was off to spend Christmas with family, what family she had left.

"Come over on the twenty-sixth, Abby," Jethro smiled, stroking her face. "Please."

She nodded. "I will do, Gibbs. I hope you and Jenny have a great Christmas. She's really lucky to have you."

He brought the brunette into a tight hug, where he could feel his polo shirt getting a little wet. "I'm lucky to have you all," he whispered in her ear.

With another quick hug, Jethro was left by himself. He quickly ran upstairs to get showered and have a shave, changing into a thin white shirt and tie and eagerly awaiting his wife's return. After about a half hour and two glasses of bourbon later, he heard her car pull up on their driveway. Her security team departed, which left his wife alone with him.

Key in the lock, and Jethro's heart started to beat wildly. He could hear her laughter as she entered the Christmas den and then heard two clunks as she dropped her heels to the floor. Soon enough he could hear her running through into the living room and then he saw her.

"Hey you."

She was a sight for sore eyes. The work suit she wore was pretty and professional, but she looked tired. Her red hair and red lips were welcoming as she straddled him in his armchair. She stroked his face as she gently pressed her lips to his, taking her time to reacquaint herself with his taste. His hands gripped her tighter around her waist, and pulled her further into his lap. Snuggling against him, Jenny smiled.

"I have missed you so much."

Jethro pulled her legs over his lap and held his wife tight in his arms. She felt so good. "I've missed you too. Promise the next time you go you'll assign me to your protection detail?"

She shook her head, kissing him on the chin. "Someone had to look after the agency. Now - I want to talk to you about you using my employees for Christmas elves."

Jethro groaned. He could see the sparkle in her eye - she wasn't mad, but it wasn't exactly brilliant that she had found out about his secret Christmas plan. Bet it was Ducky. "I don't know what you're talking about, Jen."

Jenny pushed herself up off of his lap and turned to the Christmas tree. She undid her ponytail, letting her curls spill over her shoulders. He couldn't keep his eyes off of her. "I'm talking about you asking Tim, Tony, Ziva and Abby for their help in making a very holly jolly Christmas for us."

He watched as his wife shed her jacket and started undoing the button of her suit pants, dropping them to the floor. Gulping, Jethro realised she was wearing something from that little French lingerie store underneath her suit. She started playing with the decorations until her husband wrapped his arms tight around her, pressing his mouth to her neck.

"I have missed you so much, Jen. I just wanted us to have a good first Christmas together."

She nuzzled his cheek. "Of course we will, because we're together, Jethro. Everything else is just a wonderful bonus."

Jenny pressed her lips to his as the grandfather clock in the hallway chimed that it was Christmas day. She ran into the hallway to get something she had dropped. It was his Christmas presents that she handed over.

"Now here I was thinking you were my Christmas present."

Jenny giggled and pulled Jethro down to the rug in front of the fire. He took the chance to switch on the soft Christmas melodies and let himself be thoroughly kissed by his wife. A week of being without her was nothing compared to the six years he had been without her, but now they were finally together any time apart was awful.

Moving upwards so they were both kneeling on the rug, Jethro picked up one of his presents. It was a small box, something he wasn't so sure about. Rattling around, he finally ripped into the paper to reveal a box and inside a key, a key that he sort of recognised.

"What is this?"

Jenny grinned. "It's the key to our safe house, the one we used in Paris. I bought it a month ago, signed the papers over this trip. So it's all ours, we can go and holiday in Paris if we want."

Jethro smiled at the gesture. It was wonderful, the key to truly their first home together. "Thank you, Jen."

"That's more the present for both of us. This is yours." She then handed him a second present. He gave it a rattle before he opened it to reveal a small little wooden boat, perfectly crafted. It was beautiful, sanded smooth, painted to intimate detail. He could see Jenny biting her upper lip at the little 'Jethro' painted on the back. He met her eyes.

"You made this?"

His wife nodded. "I… You say your boats calm you. I thought you could have this one at work. It's stupid. I bought you books, and bourbon and tools so these crappy presents don't…"

Her words were cut off as her husband pushed her to the floor again, stroking her forehead. He put the little wooden toy down by her head, brushing away the few tears that had escaped onto her cheeks. "It's perfect. You're perfect, you know that?"

Jenny giggled and kissed him again. "I love you." She kissed his neck. "Okay, where's my present Santa Claus?"

Jethro chuckled and moved under the tree to get the main present for Jenny. As he did so he undid his tie and tossed it aside. He realised that as soon as Jenny unwrapped this present, they would soon be unwrapping each other.

Sitting cross legged in a negligee, Jethro's beloved tore into her present. It was a copy of _Peter Pan_, a first edition. Her grandfather had given her a copy one Christmas, but it had burned when one of their safe houses had gone up in flames. His wife was crying again as she threw her arms around his neck. He pressed a kiss to her cheek.

"Merry Christmas, Jenny."

She stoked the sides of his face. "Merry Christmas, Jethro."

They leaned into kiss each other, revelling in the joy of their first Christmas together as a married couple and in their new home. They were very much in love, had friends and family who would do anything for them. They had a whole twenty four hours of Christmas magic to enjoy, as well as each other now Jenny had returned home.

Neither of them would ever admit that Tony was right about how quickly they _unwrapped_. Both were too busy to concern themselves with anything other than each other as the snow fell outside on Christmas Day.


	5. Christmas Memories JibbsGal1

**Title: **Christmas Memories

**Author: **JibbsGal1

**For: **amaranthine love

**Rating: **T

**Request: **Let's see... I love snow, so I'd like something related to snow, like ice-skating, or just walking in the snowfall. And some angst, but with a happy ending! And that warm, cozy Christmassy feeling :)

**A/N**: This takes place in Season 3, sometime after "Model Behavior," which aired in the middle of December. It will go a bit AU, obviously. As usual with my writing, I'm working off the belief that Alexa's pre-story trilogy is canon.

* * *

><p>It had been a couple of weeks since the case closed but Jethro had hardly spoken a word more than was necessary, and it was beginning to get to Jenny. Frankly, a lot was beginning to get to her. It was the first time they had discussed, even if in a roundabout way, the dreaded note - the 'Dear John' letter she had left him ending things between them back in Europe.<p>

It was… _awkward_.

She knew he had thought things were great between them back then. He hadn't noticed she was unhappy or had things on her mind… dark things. So finally when she had been given her own orders, she jumped at the chance - it was getting her closer to her final goal, the reason she had joined NCIS in the first place.

Jenny replayed all of her reasons and her thoughts back then through her mind as she walked aimlessly in the gentle snow. It was the first storm of the season and there was already a good amount on the ground. She had ditched her detail, which she knew she'd be given hell for but she didn't care. She needed to clear her head - of _him_.

She found herself outside the National Gallery of Art and noticed a sign for their Sculpture Garden's ice-skating rink. Without even thinking, Jenny headed towards it. Ice skating brought back childhood memories of her father taking her to practice every Saturday morning during many winters. She hugged her arms around herself, a bit melancholy by thoughts of him. She heard that time heals and eventually memories become a source of comfort rather than sadness, but she was still waiting for that day.

The holiday music playing added to the bitter sweetness of the moment as she watched young children skating with their parents, young lovers holding hands and even a few grandparent types making their way smoothly across the ice. She leaned against the rail, mesmerized by the repetitive motion.

She walked over to the Pavilion Café and was surprised to hear non-holiday music. Jenny recognized the song playing from the movie, "League of Her Own," which she had caught on a plane once and loved. The song, "Now and Forever," was resonating with her far more this time.

_And think about all the words between us  
><em>_That never needed to be spoken  
><em>_We had a moment, just one moment  
><em>_That will last beyond a dream, beyond a lifetime_

Jenny froze. Was the song really speaking to her about Jethro? Or would even a nursery rhyme at this point make her think of him? Why did she let him get to her? It's not like he cares. For God's sake, he didn't even notice her haircut. Why was she feeling like a schoolgirl all of sudden? Damn case. It was making her think back to those days with him where all they had was each other - missions that were incredibly dangerous against a backdrop of a doomed love affair where the sex consumed them to the point of almost jeopardizing their objectives. Not that they let it get that far, but there were a few close calls.

When she took the job, she promised herself she'd remain professional. But one look in his sexy blue eyes, and her resolve began to melt away.

_I miss the tears, I miss the laughter  
><em>_I miss the day we met and all that followed after  
><em>_Sometimes I wish I could always be with you  
><em>_The way we used to do_

Suddenly Jenny noticed the man himself was standing next to her. Jethro looked at her, and she worried he could read her thoughts - that she was emotionally naked before him. She turned away, choosing to look straight ahead instead. It took her a few moments to find her voice.

"What are you doing here, Gibbs?" She used the formal version of his name to be safe. She was afraid how intimate her voice would sound otherwise. Did he still know her that well? Her heart was racing to see him there when she had just been lost in memories of him.

"You pissed off your security."

She frowned. "That still doesn't explain why _you're_ here."

"It's Christmas Eve. Told 'em to go to their families. Said I'd find you, get you home."

Jenny sighed, irritated. "Drew the short straw?" she asked bitterly.

Her mood confused him. They hadn't been talking, and he had no idea what drove her to ditch her detail. It was a strange feeling. He used to be able to read her effortlessly. Then again, that was when they loved each other. At least, he loved her. "Not like that."

"What's it like then? And how'd you find me?"

"GPS in your phone."

Jenny shook her head, annoyed with herself. "Well, I figured if I broke Rule #3, then there'd really be hell to pay," she said dryly.

"Got that right."

"Wipe that arrogant smirk off your face."

"Whaaaa? You weren't even looking at me."

"Didn't need to."

He laughed. "Fair enough." Gibbs studied her, trying to figure out where her mind was at.

"Why are you staring at me? I can feel your eyes."

"Why won't you look at me, Jenny?"

She leaned her head down on her hands, which were resting on the railing. "If you recall, I never asked you to join me."

Gibbs gently took her shoulder and turned her to face him. "What are you doing here, by yourself? It's Christmas Eve. Shouldn't you be home drinking bourbon in your eggnog by the fire or something?"

She sighed. "I don't do Christmas. Besides, I could ask you the same thing."

He sighed, moving his gaze from her to watch the people skating. "Me either."

"You did in Positano."

"Easy to do Christmas when you're with someone you love." The words escaped his lips before he could stop them. Gibbs froze, unsure how she'd react. He turned to look at her and saw Jenny nod sadly before turning to face him finally.

"Yeah."

The moisture in her eyes surprised him. He nodded to them. "What's got you emotional?"

"Memories…"

He sighed. He wondered if she meant of them or perhaps someone else? Either way, he couldn't imagine her telling him and he would never push. Pushing might lead her to ask questions _he _wouldn't want to answer. Then again, they were never like that with each other. It's why it always felt so right with Jenny. "Do you want to skate or something? Or can I escort you home?"

"You don't have to stay with me." She saw by his glare that he disagreed. She looked around, uncomfortable.

"What is it?"

"I hate keeping you out, but I really don't want to go back to my place. Christmas was a lot easier in another country."

He understood perfectly. He had no interest in going back to his house either, where memories of Kelly and Shannon haunted him. The snow was coming down harder now but it didn't seem to bother Jenny. He held out his gloved hand. "Want to walk around the city?" She took him up on his offer and for the first time in ages, she smiled genuinely at him - shocking Gibbs a little.

"What?" she asked, noticing his expression as they headed for the exit.

"Really nice to see you smile again, Jen. First time since you came back that it feels like I'm seeing the old Jenny I used to know… not Director Shepard."

She smiled again, encouraged by his words. "I miss that Jenny."

"What do you say that Jenny and Jethro hang out tonight and help each other _not _celebrate Christmas?"

For a moment, Jenny was into it until her thoughts darkened. "There was a lot more to that Jenny and Jethro than a smile."

He couldn't help it. He had to ask. "Ever miss _us_?"

She stopped walking and turned to face him. Her eyes were a bit misty as they locked with his. "Never more than right now."

Jethro swallowed hard, overwhelmed a bit by her confession. "Do you think for tonight, we could stay Jenny and Jethro, revisit who we were without the professional baggage of how _unethical _it would be?"

She smiled at his use of "unethical," a buzz word they used to employ to describe their lovemaking when he was _her_ boss. He could tell she remembered too, making them both grin madly.

She looked around, a little nervous. "I don't know. Do you think we could?"

He took off his glove and caressed her face. "I know I'd like to." When she nodded, he drew closer, bringing her mouth to his. The electricity that was generated as their lips touched for the first time in six years was immediate. Both moaned at the intensity of it, which made them pull apart with laughter in surprise.

Feeling lighter and more playful than she had in ages, Jenny pushed him to the ground. "Race you to the end of the street." She took off running, laughing all the way as she occasionally glanced over her shoulder to see where he was.

It didn't take Gibbs long to regroup and chase after her, catching up to Jenny and tackling her into a snow drift. They both laughed as they fell into it, the snow cushioning their fall. He had her pinned beneath him, their closeness generating a lot of heat. It wasn't long before they were kissing again, both reveling in being lost in the other's lips. Out of an old habit, he reached his fingers into her short hair but quickly pulled away.

She looked at him, confusion in her eyes. "Why'd you stop?"

"I hate your haircut," he said petulantly, sitting up in the snow.

Jenny looked at him, annoyed. She sat up next to him. "Please, you didn't even notice I got it cut."

"Oh I noticed," he grumbled.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Then why didn't you say anything?"

He looked at her, incredulous. "And say what when you or anyone else asked me why I didn't like it? 'Well, I don't like it because even though I have no right to say this and we're not together, if we ever _are_ together again, I won't be able to do my absolute favorite thing where I fist my hand in your long hair as you orgasm?'"

Jenny's mouth was on the ground. She looked at him - stunned - not just by the sentiment but by how much he said. When she was finally able to speak, she managed, "I won't ever cut it again."

Slowly he smiled as her words - and their implication - registered. "Well, all right then."

Jenny leaned over and whispered in his ear, "Am I going to have to wait until my hair is long before you make me orgasm again?"

The low, throaty sound of her voice was sexy enough, never mind what she said, to make Gibbs need to shift around uncomfortably. He looked at her and watched her smile, knowing she had unnerved him. He swallowed hard, glaring at her as she tried to look innocent. "Will this snow drift do, or should we go someplace a bit more secluded?"

She smiled as she crawled onto his lap, facing him. "I'm relieved to know that my hair isn't a complete deterrent." He rolled his eyes as he wrapped his arms around her. "Where were you thinking we should go?"

He looked at his watch. "If there was more time, I'd suggest Paris."

She wrapped her arms around his neck. "Oh I like that idea. If only we could."

"What about that little hotel down the street?"

She nodded her approval. "But can we first make snow angels?"

He groaned. "You really are just Jenny tonight… only not Europe Jenny… more like 12-year-old Jenny," he said, chasing after her as she ran for a nearby clearing. He watched as she picked just the right spot and laid down on her back, moving her arms and legs.

"Hey, you're really going to let me do this by myself? Where's your angel?"

"Not a word ever associated with me." She pouted. Even though it was dark, he could make it out in the moonlight. "Fine," he grumbled. He picked a safe distance from her and made an angel too. _What I do to get laid. _"Happy now?"

She dove on top of Gibbs, knocking the wind out of him. "Extremely. More than I have been in a very long time."

He placed his arms around Jenny and rolled her underneath him. "Me too."

She reached her gloved hand into his hair, pulling him closer to her lips. "Happy Not Christmas, Jethro."

He smiled as he looked deeply into her eyes. "Happy Not Christmas, Jenny."


	6. The Solitude of Christmas NickyK

**Title**: The Solitude of Christmas

**Author**: NickyK

**For: **tayababy

**Rating: **T

**Disclaimer**: I own nothing!

**Summary**: Jenny realizes that being alone at Christmas time is not what she wants.

Director Jenny Shepard pushed away from her desk and rubbed her tired eyes. She didn't know what she was still doing at the NCIS building. Most of the staff was already gone save for a few on-call agents. It was almost Christmas, after all. Her stomach clenched at the thought. She really hated this time of year. Needing to move, she rounded her desk and found herself staring out the massive window in her office that over looked the Navy Yard.

The world below was covered in a glittering mass of fluffy whiteness. It startled her. So absorbed in her need to not think about the outside world, she hadn't even realized it had begun to snow. She'd always liked the first snowfall. The way it looked like the clouds had come down to rest on the branches, sidewalks and driveways. When she was a little girl, she could remember opening her window on that first big snowfall and listening to the nothingness. That's how she'd thought of it… the sound of nothingness. It was always so peaceful and serene that she used to wonder if the clouds had brought a bit of heaven down along with it. Then she would hurry and close the window because Santa came on nights like that and if he found her still awake, he would put sand in her eyes.

Jenny smiled at the childish memories, thinking suddenly of how long ago it was when she dreamed of Santa Clause and reindeers. When her only thoughts at this time of year was what would be waiting for her underneath the Christmas tree.

_And if her Dad would be there when she woke._

The thought came out of nowhere but it was one she acknowledged with a grimace. There was always that tinged of disappointment when she would awaken Christmas morning to only see her mother waiting for her. As a young child, around the holidays especially, she had resented her father's work and the way it kept him away from her and her mother. And later, after her mother died and it was only the nanny waiting, well, that's when she began to realize that Christmas was just another day.

Suddenly chilled, she wrapped her arms around herself. She started to move away from the window when she caught a glimpse of rainbow colored lights off in the distance.

_Christmas lights. _

It hit her like a fist in the chest. So unexpected was the rush of emotion, the abrupt pang of loneliness that she gasped out loud. The sound brought her up short as Jenny stumbled on unsteady legs back to her desk. She sat down heavily, reaching instinctively to the bottle of bourbon she'd stashed in her desk drawer. Blindly, she opened the cap and lifted if up to her mouth. The smell made her stomach churn and she stopped, closing her eyes as she resealed the liquor and put it away.

Taking several deeps breaths, Jenny forced herself to focus. Pushing all thoughts of childhood Christmas fantasies aside, she concentrated once more on the screen in front of her. Not once acknowledging the nagging voice inside her head reminding her that no one will be waiting for her on Christmas morning. Not even the nanny.

* * *

><p>Jenny woke to the sound of giggling. Cautiously, she opened her eyes and nearly yelped at the set of blue and green eyes that gleamed back at her.<p>

"Wake up mommy, it's Christmas," whispered the oldest one. Or at least she thought he was older, though not by much.

"Yeah, wase up, mommy," the younger one repeated or tried to, his words were a little less clear.

"Wha…."

"Boys, didn't I tell you not to wake up your mother?"

Jenny's head snapped around, her eyes widening at the sight of Special Agent Leroy Jethro Gibbs in a bathrobe, trying to look stern but not having much luck.

"But Daddy, it's Christmas," the older one said again as if that explained everything.

"I know what day it is," Gibbs said playfully grabbing the boys around the waist and pulling them off the bed. They giggled hysterically as Gibbs set them down. "Why don't you and Nicholas go get your slippers on and meet me and mommy downstairs?"

"Yea!" one screamed, then the other as they ran towards the door.

"Don't touch anything, Nathan, until we get down there," Gibbs yelled after them.

Jenny wasn't sure they could even hear him over their own screeching. Her ears were certainly ringing. But whether it was over the boys screaming or the fact they had referred to her and Jethro as mommy and daddy, she wasn't sure.

Gibbs leaned over and kissed her on the lips. He gave her an apologetic look.

_Apologetic?_

"Think it's time to get up, hon. The boys are going to tear up the place if we don't get down there."

_Hon? _

Jenny touched her lips, still tingling from the touch of his. She turned confused eyes to his and struggled to sit up. "What's going on?" she asked weakly.

He chuckled. "I know it seems like you just laid down, but surely you haven't forgotten it's Christmas?" he asked playfully.

Jenny looked around the unfamiliar room, questions circling her brain so fast she wasn't sure which to ask first. "What are we doing here?"

Now it was Gibb's turn to look puzzled. "Jen, come on. What kind of question is that?"

"But….,"

"Mommy, Daddy, hurry!" Nathan she assumed shouted up to them.

"And right now we better get downstairs before we have twin tornadoes destroying our living room."

He leaned down and kissed her, this time on the cheek, before he rose and walked out the door.

_Was he whistling?_

Uncertain, Jenny pulled back the covers and swung her feet to the floor. She looked around and spotted a robe thrown casually across the back of a chair, a pair of slippers on the floor beside it. She slipped them on, somewhat unnerved by how perfectly the items fit.

"Jen, the boys are getting antsy. " Gibbs yelled back up the stairs.

"I-I'm coming," she called hesitantly. Tying the robe securely around her waist, she cast another glance around the unfamiliar room, and headed out the bedroom door.

It shouldn't have surprised her that she knew exactly where to go, yet it did. She didn't understand what was going on or how she'd even gotten there. Or why those two beautiful boys kept referring to them as mommy and daddy. Her stomach gave a nervous flutter at that thought.

If only, she mused rounding the corner to see two very eager boys ripping into brightly wrapped packages.

Gibbs looked up. "I couldn't hold them off much longer," he said by way of explanation.

"It's okay," said Jenny, still standing in the entry-way, watching with fascination as Nathan frantically removed the wrapping on his gift. Jenny couldn't help but laugh as he gave a very loud "yeah" and pumped his arm in the air.

"I got it! Mom, Dad… I got it!" he shouted, his eyes gleaming with excitement.

"Me too," Nicholas piped in as he finally succeeded in opening his gift, which seemed to Jenny was a smaller version of his older brother's.

"Alright!" exclaimed Nathan, "Let's open another one!"

Their excitement was contagious and Jenny found herself relaxing as she watched them; laughing at their antics and beaming at their pleasure. She didn't even hesitate when Jethro reached for her hand and pulled her down beside. When his arm went around her shoulders, she leaned into him, reveling in the warmth he generated.

It should have made her weary. It should have made her question her sanity to one moment be alone in her office desperately trying to avoid the very thought of Christmas and the next celebrating it with a ready-made family.

But as she sat there, in Jethro's arms, watching the boys compare their toys with the loud enthusiasm that befitted their age, she couldn't bring herself to care how or why she was there.

"Mommy, open," said Nicholas, struggling to hand her a box that was almost as big as he.

"Of course," she said, smiling into eyes that mirrored her own.

So content on helping undo all the wires that kept the toys connected in the packaging, she hadn't even been aware of Gibbs slipping away. After an eternity of untwisting, they finally managed to free the robot.

"Tanks mommy," he exclaimed happily.

She ruffled his reddish-blond hair and kissed his forehead. "You're welcome," she said and smiled as he went to join his brother and inspect the rest of his toys.

"Your turn."

She looked up to see Jethro standing beside her, holding a small package. He handed it to her as he sat beside her once again.

"What's this?" she asked softly.

"Open it and see."

She held his eyes, Nathan's eyes she noted, a moment longer before opening the package. Her fingers shook as she opened the small jewelry box. Her breath caught at the site of the gleaming tear-drop shaped diamond necklace. "Oh, Jethro, it's beautiful," she breathed.

"You're beautiful," he told her. His hand came up and gently brushed her cheek and the love shining in his eyes made her own fill with tears.

"Will you help me put it on?" she asked huskily, holding the precious gem out to him.

"My pleasure."

She turned to give him better access. He slipped the necklace on and her hand rested lightly against the jewel. She turned when he kissed the nape of her neck.

"How does it look?"

"Exquisite as always," he said, and the heat in his eyes had a warm rush of moisture pooling in her center.

Remembering they had an audience, she cleared her throat and had to take a moment before she could speak.

"Oh, I have something for you."

She didn't question how she knew that. She rose and walked over to the Christmas tree. Bending, she retrieved a gift that had been buried underneath all the others. Slowly, she went back to him and handed it to him. Jenny bit her lip as he opened the gift, not knowing how he would accept it.

His too was a jewelry box. Inside was a sparkling gold pocket watch. Gibbs lifted it out slowly, the chain uncurling as he did so.

"It was my father's," Jenny said quietly. "I found it when I finally cleaned all of his stuff out of the townhouse. My mother had given it to him as a Christmas gift and he treasured it, carried it everywhere. After she died, I-I never saw it again." She swallowed. "I had it restored and the engraving redone. I thought it was very fitting for us."

Gibbs opened the watch and read the words '_Our Love is Timeless'_. He said nothing for a moment and Jenny looked at him anxiously.

"Do you like it? I know it's not really your style and if you don't want to accept it I would understand. I…"

"Jen, I'm honored," he said gently cutting her off.

"Really?"

"Yeah. It's perfect and I'm honored that you would want me to have this. I get how important this is you and I promise I'll take good care of it."

He kissed her then- just a light touch of his lips to hers, with a promise of more to come later in his eyes. Her body tingled at the anticipation. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, willing it to behave.

"I love you, Jen."

"I love you too, Jethro."

And she found that she really did.

Later that night, after the boys had reluctantly put away all their gifts, taken their baths and went off to bed, they came together. Slow and tenderly, their bodies molded into one, their breaths mingled with their sighs as their pleasure and joy of being with each other, loving one another, collided and exploded into sensation after sensation of pure ecstasy.

* * *

><p>"Jen. Jen, wake up."<p>

Jenny Shepard jerked away, her eyes wide as she looked around…her office? How did… what was she doing in her office? Where was the house, the Christmas tree? Where were the boys?

"Jen, you okay?"

She looked up and stared into the concerned eyes of Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Dread bumbled up inside her as comprehension settled in.

"No," she breathed. "No, it couldn't have been."

"What are you talking about?"

She looked at him again, her eyes panicked now. "It was a dream? But it couldn't have been. It felt so real, it was so real," she cried.

Worried, he bent down to her. "Jenny, what's going on? Are you okay? Do I need to get Ducky?"

"No," she yelled, pushing away from him. She stood unsteadily and began to pace the length of her office. "You told me you loved me. I told you I loved you. We had two precious little boys, Nathan and Nicholas. We were a family. I was part of a family," she finished on a sob.

Gibbs watched her, trying to keep up with her words, trying to keep his own emotions in check. "Tell me about the dream," he demanded gently.

She looked at him, tears in her eyes and told him everything. From beginning to end, she held nothing back. When she was done, she looked at him and the sadness in her eyes nearly broke his heart.

"I was happy, Jethro. I was so happy. I haven't been that way in a very long time," her voice sounded drained, defeated. "But it was a dream and I'm still alone."

Taking a chance, he went to her. Lifting her eyes up to his, he cupped her chin. "You don't have to be alone, Jen."

She sniffed. "What are you talking about?"

"Being alone was always your choice. You wouldn't let anyone in. But you don't have to be by yourself, especially on Christmas."

She sighed. "Jethro, in the space of, what, half an hour, I have just went on an emotional journey that wasn't all pleasant. I can't even begin to decipher what you mean."

Gibbs searched her face. He'd wanted to take that leap of faith so many times with her. He'd wanted to take away the sadness and loneliness that plagued her every year around this time, but he'd always held back. She'd hurt him too many times. Could he trust her now not to throw his feelings back in his face?

God, relationships were such a mess, he thought grimly.

But looking at her now, at the wounded, defeated expression on her face, he knew that if he didn't speak now, tell him how he felt, she would disappear behind that wall again. A wall he was all too familiar with because he'd had one up himself for years after Shannon and Kelly died. He'd had help taking his own down, now it was his turn to give back to her what she'd given to him all those years ago.

Taking a steady breath, he spoke.

"What I'm saying, Jenny, is that I'm here. You're not alone. There are plenty of people who care about you, who want to see you happy. I'm one of them. "

She snorted in disbelief. "Right. You want me to believe that after all this time, everything I've done, you still care?"

"Yeah, I do. And so do a lot of other people." His hand cupped the side of her cheek, his thumb wiping away the tears still lingering. "You're not alone, Jen. If you let me in, you never have to be alone again."

She looked at him quizzically. "What are you saying, Jethro?"

He smiled and took her hand. "Come with me."

Reluctantly, she let him lead her to the door, not quite sure where they were going. There was only a skeleton crew working tonight so she wasn't worried anyone seeing her holding hands with Gibbs or crying.

He opened the door and pulled her out onto the upper landing that overlooked the bullpen.

Jenny gasped. It had been completely transformed. Lights and garland hung from every available surface, Christmas music drifted out through the rarely use intercom system, and a wide variety of food, in every color of the rainbow it seemed, was spread amongst the desks, while a couple dozen people milled around, laughing and talking.

Jenny turned wide, surprised eyes to his. "How did you do this?"

"It wasn't me. It was Abby and Ducky. "

"But I thought you guys were gathering at Ducky's?"

Gibbs shrugged. "They wanted you there. This time Abby said she refused to take no for an answer. So since you wouldn't come to the party, she brought the party to you."

He paused for a moment, letting her take it all in.

"You're family. They care about you and they love you. So do I," he said turning to face her.

Still reeling, Jenny could have sworn she misunderstood. "What did you say?"

"I said they love you. And so do I." He reached up, brushed her hair back away from her face. "I love you, Jenny. I'm here if you want me to be."

Jenny studied his face. She'd spent so long pretending that she didn't love him, didn't want him. Now, he was taking that chance, making the first move. It took so much energy to keep denying her feelings, to keep her heart isolated from those basic human emotions. And she didn't want to do it anymore.

"I love you too, Jethro. I really do."

He grinned and nodded. She smiled, because that was so typically Gibbs. She was happy, deliriously so. Just like in her dream.

"Let's go join the party," he said tugging her along.

She hesitated. "I look a mess. I can't go down there like this," she hissed.

"You look beautiful."

The look in his eyes told her he was sincere. This time, she grinned and nodded. Hand in hand, they went down the steps and paused when they reached the end.

"Hey, Gibbs."

He turned, narrowing his eyes at a mischievously smiling Abby. He quirked his brow in question.

"Look up," she said smugly, her eyes twinkling. "You have to kiss her," she giggled out.

He looked up at the mistletoe and shook his head. "You okay with this?" he asked her.

Jenny shrugged. "Well, it is tradition," she said lightly.

Gibbs leaned forward. "And who are we to break tradition," he murmured, right before his lips settled firmly over hers. She deepened the kiss, lifting her arms up to pull him in closer. They broke apart to the good-natured teasing.

"Merry Christmas, Jen."

"Merry Christmas, Jethro," she said happily.


	7. War Is Over MyOwnWorstCritic

**Title: **War Is Over

**Author:** MyOwnWorstCritic

**For:** NCIS She-Demon

**Rating:** K+

It shouldn't have surprised him that she was there. He saw the boot tracks in the snow in his front yard but didn't pay much attention to it. When he walked into his house, however, he could no longer ignore it and her.

He found her in the living room, sprawled over his couch looking extremely comfortable.

"I see you've made yourself at home," he said gruffly. She waved off his comment, but still sat up to face him.

"I don't see what the problem is, Jethro," she said caustically, crossing her arms.

"You know damn well what the problem is, _Jen_," he spat.

"I thought you would be happy to see me!" She stood up to face him level.

He frowned. "Sit back down, you're sick."

She rolled her eyes and scoffed. "I'm not a porcelain doll, Jethro. I'll be fine." She softened her biting tone when she saw his eyes turn soft, his concern for her seeping through his annoyance and anger at the situation.

"Go home, Jenny," he said softly, turning his back to her and going into his kitchen.

And even though every fiber in her body told her not to seek out an argument, she couldn't help but yell out, "I don't have one, since you burned it down!"

She turned to leave the living room and head for the front door, but a sharp stab of pain in her side has her gasping and clutching the doorframe for support.

He had to fight the urge to move to her and make sure she was okay, but he knew that if he did she would just brush it all off. Choosing to lean against the wall, he crossed his arms and watched her.

He didn't say anything when she whined and curled into herself at another stab of pain.

In a quick moment her body went limp and he was by her side quickly, supporting her body with his own. Hooking an arm under her legs and around her back, he lifted her and walked over to the couch. As he set her down she stirred.

"Jethro, I'm leaving," she said hoarsely.

"Not in the current weather and your state you're not."

"I don't mean your house, I mean DC," she said, sighing.

He almost did a double take. "Where are you gonna go?"

She glared at him and he didn't pursue it.

"You ok, Jen?" he asked gruffly, standing up and going back to the kitchen.

"I'm fine. It's just the stitches. I'll go since I'm not welcome here anymore." She hated herself for the manipulation.

She heard him sigh in the kitchen before walking back into the kitchen, drying his hands on a towel rag. "Stay here tonight."

"No," she said adamantly. It was his turn to roll his eyes.

"Jenny, I'm not letting you out on this weather," he persisted. She turned and looked out the window and sighed. _He's right_.

"Fine." He grinned and motioned her upstairs. "What?"

"There's stuff upstairs in the guest bedroom."

She still didn't understand his grin, but chose to slowly make her way upstairs.

He stood in the living room patiently waiting, and then, "Jethro!"

He could hear her pace as he made his way upstairs. The door wasn't even fully pushed open before, "Why are there boxes of my stuff in here?"

Even though he had an excuse at hand, he knew it wasn't the truth and just shrugged.

She had warmed up completely upon finding her things, and said to him softly, "Jethro, what is it?" She sat down on the bed and patted the space next to her so he would sit; and he did.

"I just didn't want to think that you were gone."

When she didn't immediately reply, he looked up at her. Her green eyes were sparkling.

"What?" he said loudly when they just kept staring at each other.

"You know I promised I'd never leave you. I have no intention of breaking it."

"You said you were leaving DC," he pointed out.

She took a deep breath and slowly and loudly exhaled. "I thought you..." She trailed off and broke their eye contact to stare at a spot on the floor.

"You what, Jen?" he pressed on.

"You didn't want me!"

"The hell gave you that impression?" he exclaimed.

"Oh, I don't know, the parade of women around you since Los Angeles!" she replied, both of them wound up.

"What did I tell you when you came back?" he said, eerily calm.

"That I could choose whatever I want to do and you would have my back," she said, frowning a little.

"Well!"

"Well what?"

"I'd say that was plenty."

She was shocked. Her jaw was slack at her disbelief. "You blind bastard! I would have figured that by now you would know how to handle women!"

"I don't," he stated simply.

"Clearly!" She noticed he was being serious and some steam left her. "Jethro, if you wanted me to stay, you should have said so. I need to know what _you_ want as well."

Before she could get another word in edgewise, he intervened. "I want you to stay, Jen. Permanently."

She couldn't do anything to stop the smile from spreading over her face. "That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"Jenny," he whined, making her chuckle.

"Yes, Jethro, I'll stay."

"Here with me?"

"I think I have to. The way that snow is coming down I'm sure we're already trapped in here." He knew she was playing around with him so he pinched her leg. "Yes, Jethro. I want to stay here with you," she said softly, looking at him.

"You gonna dye your hair back to red?"

She laughed really loudly. "Oh, I knew you hated the color."

"Not the color, just on you."

She pulled away from him and arched an eyebrow. "So you like blonde?"

"Well on Holl—." His mouth was suddenly covered by hers.

"Shut up, I don't care."

He grinned against her hand and mumbled against it, "I think you do care."

"Jethro..." she warned, encouraging his grin.

He nodded and she finally removed her hand from over his mouth. She got up and started walking out the room.

"Where...?"

"I'm not sleeping in here. When I said with you, I meant it," she said, winking.

He stood up as well. "Hey Jen?"

She turned in the doorway to face him. "Mhm-hmm?"

He took the last few steps towards her. "Merry Christmas," he said, motioning up with his head. As she was temporarily distracted by the mistletoe hanging above them, he moved in and kissed her deeply.

After a while they pulled back and she couldn't contain her giddy smile.

"Merry Christmas Jethro."


	8. At the end of the day Petra Igraine

**Title**: At the end of the day

**Author**: Petra Igraine

**For**: JibbsGal1

**Rating**: T

**A/N**: Some established Jibbs. I hope it lives up to expectation :) Happy holidays!

Jenny stood in front of the armchair in her sister's living room, neatly folding her cherry red sweater in an attempt to tidy up a little before going to bed. She felt exhausted; chasing after her niece all day was a more gruelling workout than her usual routine. She'd quickly discovered that morning that the girl was a little ball of energy when she was excited, and Christmas was definitely something that got the five year old excited. She rolled her shoulders, trying to relieve some of the tension from her sore muscles. The heat from the fire burning merrily in the grate did nothing to hurt either.

A pair of warm arms snaked around her waist, soon accompanied by a pair of lips planting a delicate kiss on her bare neck.

"Tired?"

"Mmhmm," she groaned. Gibbs lifted his hands to her shoulders, rubbing away a little of the exhaustion.

"That feels good," she mumbled, dropping her head forward so that he could work on the back of her neck. She was getting too old to be sitting on the floor all afternoon playing games. Another night on the lumpy sofa bed wasn't going to help matters either. She started to regret not making that reservation at the hotel down the road...

Feeling some of the tension melt away under his skilled fingers, Jenny turned and slipped her arms around his neck, kissing him affectionately.

"Thank you," she mumbled against his lips.

"You're welcome," he whispered back, running his fingers up and down the base of her spine. Jenny sighed contentedly, kissing him once more before returning to the task of tidying up their belongings.

Taking advantage of her distraction, Gibbs reached into his backpack and pulled out a small, black box from the side pocket. Keeping an eye on her to make sure she wasn't looking, he straightened the crooked red bow tied around the gift before concealing it behind his back. He smiled slyly as he ran his fingers over the velvety box, waiting patiently for her to tuck her shoes beneath the bed.

As she went to walk passed him towards the door, Gibbs grasped her hand. Jenny stopped in her tracks, looking at him curiously.

"I've got a gift for you," he stated, eyebrow raised suggestively.

"I thought those new Louboutins were my present." She smiled, liking the idea of another gift if it was even half as good as the last one.

"They are." He smirked. "I had to get you something to open in front of your parents."

Her lips curled into a smile as she remembered the surprised look on her mother's face when she'd showed her the gorgeous black stilettos.

"So what's so special about this one that you couldn't show anyone else?"

"Well..." he slipped the little box from behind his back and dropped down on one knee. Jenny's eyes went wide.

Gibbs held the little box out to her, biting back the sly grin that was fighting to form on his face.

"Get up," she ordered, her voice adopting a menacing lilt.

"Jenny Shepard, I would be the happiest man in the world..."

"Stop right there, Jethro, before you make a complete ass of yourself!"

Gibbs smirked, pulling at the red ribbon so that he could lift the lid of the velvety box.

"I just wanted to ask if you'd like to go away with me for a few days," he grinned. Jenny stared in relief at the precious metal resting on its bed of black silk. It wasn't a ring... it was a beautiful locket.

"Jerk," she muttered, slapping him a little too hard on the shoulder. Gibbs laughed, standing back up so that they stood toe to toe. She took the box from him and saw that the silhouette of the Tour Eifel was beautifully carved onto the facade.

"There's a plane ticket to Paris with your name on it. I thought we could spend the New Year there, just the two of us."

"Just the two of us?" Jenny asked, tilting her head to the side as she looked at him.

He nodded, slipping a hand round her waist as he stepped closer.

"At the Hotel Le Notre Dame," he confirmed. "For four days."

Her eyebrows shot up.

"All this and the Louboutins?"

"I can send the shoes back if it's too much..."

Jenny was horrified at his completely serious tone. She immediately backtracked.

"It just means I'll have to find something else to give you," she grinned, slipping her hand up his chest.

"I can live with that," he chuckled, letting his lips linger on hers as he kissed her. Jenny lifted her hand to his cheek, running her thumb over his slightly rough skin as she bumped her nose affectionately against his.

The brisk knock on the door had them jumping apart. Their visitor didn't wait for an invitation to enter before pushing to the door wide open in one sweeping move.

"Sorry guys, Sophie won't go to bed without Betsy." The woman smiled apologetically as she retrieved the rag doll from beneath the garishly decorated tree tucked away in the corner.

"Tell her Gibbs will come up and tickle her if she won't behave." Jenny informed her sister with a chuckle.

Heather sighed, so tired that she was tempted to take up the offer.

"You want me to go up?" Gibbs offered, confident he could get his new little friend to settle down even if he was a little out of practice. They had a _secret_ _pact_ after all...

"Nah, she'll crash in a bit. She's been up since five." Heather grimaced. "You guys have a good night."

"Night." Jenny called after her sister, not jealous at all of the mammoth task the woman had ahead of her.

The couple stood and listened to the heated debate taking place on the stairs as mother and daughter clashed.

"Maybe that last candy cane was a mistake." Jenny whispered, her eyes still glued to the closed door her sister had left through.

"You gave her one too?" Gibbs asked nervously. Jenny's head snapped round to look at him, biting her lip to stop the laughter.

"Tell me you didn't..."

The guilty look on Gibbs' face was enough to break the dam. Jenny's shoulder shook with merriment.

"Let's hope she brushed her teeth well," she sniggered, rounding their makeshift bed. She gave her locket pride of place on the coffee table before slipping between the warm sheets. Gibbs flicked off the light before joining her.

The fire was still glowing merrily in the grate as he snuggled up to her, shifting over far enough so that he could share her pillow. With a wicked grin on her face, Jenny ran her freezing cold feet up his leg. Payback was sweet.

"Jen," he groaned grumpily, trying to shake off her cold toes.

"Tell me the plan for Paris," she whispered, still smiling at his manly pout. Gibbs kept quiet, sulking a little. "Will I need to pack something fancy?" She prodded.

"Depends what fancy things you have in mind."

"_Not_ the same things _you_ have in mind."

Gibbs looked a little disappointed.

"I suppose I _could_ pack those too," Jenny offered, pretending to be generous.

"You could wear them under those fancy new dresses you bought last week."

"I could," she agreed, closing her eyes as she lay there in front of the slowly dying fire, soaking in the last of the heat. Gibbs leaned forward and kissed her slowly, enjoying one last, languid moment alone with her before the day was over. He ran his fingers though her hair, the coppery curls glowing in the warm light of the flames.

"Merry Christmas," she yawned, leaning her forehead against his. He smiled, kissing the tip of her nose before settling down under the mound of blankets.

"Night, Jen."

Gibbs was slowly dozing off when he felt the bed dip under the weight of a third person. He tensed, bracing himself for the knee or elbow that was sure to land right in the middle of his stomach. He wasn't disappointed. The five year old managed to land a hefty blow to his abdomen in her quest to climb over him. He shifted back a little as the girl stuffed herself between him and Jenny.

"What's the matter, Soph?" he whispered, seeing Jenny start to stir on the other side of their little visitor. The young blonde looked up at him with wide green eyes, the well loved rag doll named Betsy tucked up against her chest.

"Betsy can't sleep," she pouted.

"Would Betsy like me to come up and tuck her in?"

Sophie nodded eagerly, the rag doll in her arms flailing helplessly under the force of her mistress' enthusiasm. Still half asleep, Jenny rubbed a soothing hand on her niece's back in a half hearted attempt to calm the hyperactive young girl.

"Come on then." Gibbs pushed back the covers and held out a hand for his little friend. She followed willingly, the doll tucked safely under her arm as she jammed her thumb in her mouth.

"G'night sweetie," Jenny whispered lethargically as the girl wriggled out of her reach.

"I'll be back in a bit," Gibbs whispered to Jenny as she rolled over and pulled the blankets tight around her shoulders, already falling back to sleep.

When he returned, he was even quieter than usual. It didn't take Jenny long, even in her sleepy state, to realise that he was brooding.

"You ok?" she asked, slipping her hand round his bicep. He nodded stiffly, swallowing hard. The memories had finally caught up with him. The little girl had reminded him so much of Kelly as she curled up under her Barbie pink blankets, finally drifting off to sleep.

Forcing her eyes open, Jenny knew this wasn't something she could ignore.

"You want to talk about it?" she asked, turning on her side and propping her head up.

"Nothing to say." Gibbs shrugged as he lay flat on his back, staring straight at the ceiling. Jenny shut her eyes tight. Of course he didn't want to talk about it; he _never_ wanted to talk about it... but pushing the subject wasn't going to help anyone.

Pursing her lips, Jenny squeezed his arm gently before rolling back to her side of the small bed.

"G'night," she mumbled, pulling the covers up to her ears as she made herself comfortable.

Clenching his teeth, Gibbs tried hard not to get annoyed by her retreat; he should know better by now than to keep pushing her away. Scrubbing a hand down his face, he knew he didn't want the wonderful day to end on a sour note, so, with a sigh he shuffled over in the flimsy bed and wrapped his arms around her.

Jenny stiffened as she felt him press up behind her, his chest warm against her back as he shared her pillow. She could sense him debating with himself over something; his breathing was staggered, off beat.

After a few tense minutes, Gibbs finally got up the nerve to speak. He hoped his words would be enough...

"Sophie's just like her." He whispered, half wishing she wouldn't hear him. Jenny covered his hands with hers as they rested on her stomach, squeezing them in silent support. She could think of nothing to say...

Expecting him to continue, Jenny twisted onto her back to look at him, a little surprised to see his face as blank and stoic as always. The walls had been rebuilt. The door had been closed. He wasn't willing to share any more.

Jenny smiled weakly, biting the inside of her lip. At least he'd said _something_...

As she lay there looking at him, she felt him press his fingertips into the soft skin of her hip, silently asking if they were still okay. Jenny merely wound her arms round his neck, coaxing him to rest his head against her shoulder.

Gibbs felt awkward as he lay there in her arms; completely out of his depth as she ran her finger through his silver hair in soft, soothing patterns. _He_ was supposed to be the strong one; the one that comforted _her_...

"I love you." Jenny mumbled into his hair as she kissed the crown of his head. Gibbs watched the last of the red embers die in the grate as he listened to the rhythmic humming of her heartbeat, his arms holding her just that little bit tighter. She was there. She wanted to make things better. And she did.

Exhaling, Gibbs finally relaxed, letting his mind fill with family dinners, unwrapped presents... and a precious little girl with bright blue eyes.

He pressed a soft kiss to Jenny's shoulder, smiling nostalgically. Despite the painful memories, it had been the best Christmas in years.


	9. Memories Coated In Snow fashiongirl97

**Title: **Memories coated in Snow

**Author: **fashiongirl97

**For:** VERYobsessedwithNCIS

**Rating: **K+

**Disclaimer**_: I don't own NCIS_

_**Dear VERYobsessedwithNCIS**_

_**I tried to use your prompts the best I could. I hope it is ok and that you enjoy!**_

_**Sorry about any spelling or grammar mistakes**_

_**Have a very merry Christmas and a happy new year!**_

_**Best wishes**_

_**Your Secret Santa!**_

_**xXx**_

As a child Jenny Shepard had loved Christmas. Her father would always save his leave time for Christmas so he could spend the time with his wife and daughter. Jenny would always awaken early on Christmas morning and attempt to creep downstairs only to be caught out each and every time by a creaking stair which would then cause her father to come down silently, he'd creep up behind her and tickle the red haired girl.

Under the tree would always be piled high with presents, all beautifully wrapped in multi-coloured paper. Jenny would always hand out everybody's presents and then un-wrap all hers before hugging her parents so tight that she gave Abby a run for her money. Jenny's mum would always cook a massive Christmas dinner with all the trimmings, and once they had finished, Jenny would open all her presents that had been stuffed in her bright red stocking.

After her mother died though, Christmas has never truly been the same. Her father had still taken his leave at Christmas for the first few years, but they had both been kidding themselves. Once Jenny was fourteen he didn't bother any more. So, for her it just became another day of the year. And that's how it had been from then on, Christmas just mingled into the other 364 days of the year. She'd only ever had one special Christmas since she was fourteen, and that was in Paris…

_Jenny and Gibbs had been lovers off and on for three years. Yet due to the way their op's feel they had never had a Christmas together. This year though, the op was running behind schedule which meant they had to spend this Christmas as a married couple. So, in a hope to have a bit more of a fun and laid back Christmas, they had both bought one another a present. It had only been something small, after all credit cards were strictly forbidden as they were too easy to trace and for security reasons they had only been able to bring a small amount of cash. _

_Jenny had gotten Gibbs a new dog tag for his chain with 'No matter what tomorrow brings, we'll always have today. Yours, forever and always… Jen x'. He'd loved it, and put it on there and then. He had gotten her a locket. It was silver with swirls and hearts engraved on the front, inside on the right was photo of the pair of them. To the left was an engraving 'you'll always be in my heart Jenny, my love Jethro x' it had made her cry. Just to see those few words that he had so obviously put so much thought into. _

In the years since then, Jenny had gradually gotten into a steady routine of working right through Christmas. She had even gotten to the stage where she didn't even bother putting up decorations anymore. This year was heading the same way. Tonight was Christmas Eve, and Jenny Shepard sat at her desk and sighed as she signed yet another case file. None of them had needed signing that night, but what was the point in going home? She headed over to the drinks cabinet and poured herself a glass of bourbon, before walking over to the window which over looked the harbour. The view was one which made her relax on most days, today though it also made her smile. The harbour was never more beautiful than it was when it had a blanket of snow covering it. All the ships were white. Ironic in a way, war ships now a colour which was associated with peace. The sea was unusually calm for the time of year, and the building had never looked more beautiful. For a scene that was usually bustling with marine personnel, tonight it looked ever so peaceful. Looking down at the amount of snow that was piled on the window Jenny sighed. Two foot of snow was resting innocently on the window ledge which meant on one thing: she was snowed in work on Christmas Eve.

Jenny just gazed out of the window at the snow, remembering the years that had passed her by. In a way, it was like she had missed them all, gone was her youth and carefree spirit. It had passed her by without a second glance. It was only now, nearly twenty years after her five point plan had been formed that she looked back on her life and wondered if it had been the right choice. Because what, other than her job, did she have to show for her life? No family left, no friends to count anymore, no husband, no kids and she couldn't ignore the feeling of guilt, regret and sadness that grew in the pit of her stomach.

Knowing the sight of home would not be greeting her anytime soon, she walked out onto the balcony expecting to see no one. Yet there was a light illuminating a small section of the vast dark. It was a surprise at first, but once she had seen the desk from which it originated from she just smiled and walked back into her office. She smirked to herself as she realised that for the first time in too long she would not be spending Christmas alone, but with the man she loved, and had never stopped.

The redhead walked over to her couch, shook off her blazer, and undid the first few buttons of her crisp green oxford blouse. She wasn't trying to impress her former boss, just become more comfortable, and just relax. So she grabbed the bottle of bourbon that sat in her drinks cabinet and headed back downstairs to where he sat.

* * *

><p>He heard her coming, those signature heals gave her away a mile away. Plus he'd been expecting to see her. She never left early, and Christmas Eve was no different. The same applied to him, after Shannon and Kelly had died Christmas had just always brought back memories too painful to bear. So every year he would sit in his basement, sand his boat and get parametrically drunk.<p>

Looking up he saw how beautiful she truly was. A fact that in recent months had escaped his memory. She was wearing an A line skirt which finished an inch above her knee and flattered her figure. The black heals made her legs look impossibly longer and the green blouse with an extra few buttons undone made her look stunning. Her hair was loose and long, just the way he like it. He was so caught up in admiring his former lover that he hadn't noticed she'd stopped directly in front of him. "My face is here Jethro," she stated with a smirk on her face. He simply responded by leaning back in his chair and raising an eyebrow.

As she set the bourbon down on his desk and grabbed a chair, Jethro got the mugs out of his drawer and began to pour them both a healthy measure. "Why are you still here Jen? It's Christmas Eve," he questioned his voice full of care and concern. A tone she hadn't heard him use towards her in a long time.

"I was doing paperwork, lost track of time. I could ask you the same question."

"And I'd give you the same answer."

"Since when do you stay late and do paperwork Jethro?" Her tone was light and teasing. They had fallen back into the way they had been before she left. Joking casually and flirting. Not obvious so the whole world knew just light and gentle, between only them.

"Blame DiNozzo. He was winding me up and driving me mad, in fact they all were. So, I told them they were not leaving the building until they had finished all their paperwork. What I didn't realise was that they would be so overwhelmed by the snow and transformed into children once more, therefore meaning it would take them three hours."

"So when did they finish?"

"Half and hour ago."

"And they managed to get home."

"Nope, they're down in Abby's lab."

"I bet Tony isn't any of their favourite people."

The pair just laughed, remembering all the times they had been kept late over the years when they worked together, mainly thanks to Burley's antics.

_ They had just finished up a case, it was watertight. So, Burley being Burley decided he wanted to nosey into Gibbs' private life: bad idea. Once Gibbs had been tipped off by a certain red-headed partner that Burley and Pacci had been making bets on him, they were all then forced to stay until all the paperwork was finished. Stan had been confused beyond belief as to firstly: how his boss knew about the bets, and secondly: why he was so touchy about his private life. The reason was though, that it was at the time when partners just so happened to also be lovers and close calls were just too close. Burley had not exactly been flavour of the month, as due to his antics Pacci had missed a date therefore causing to break up with his girlfriend. Gibbs and Jenny had had no time to see one another as she had to go to an interface conference so Gibbs didn't have to go and end up being arrested for murder. That next week Burley had received enough head slaps to get a serious concussion, enough death glares to kill him one hundred times over and enough staplers thrown at him to get a lifelong phobia of the painful piece of stationary._

The pair sat there silently drinking for the next half hour, only it was a comfortable silence. A silence which allowed them to reminisce in times bygone, times when they lived different lives and were different people. Even as they sat there and morning drew nearer snow still fell outside. Jenny got up and slowly walked towards the window where she sat down, resting her back against a pillar. Her cheek was gently rested against the cold window as she gazed outside. Looking across at her former lover she motioned for him to come and join her. They had never needed words, had always been able to communicate in a way which no one else could understand. They still could now. The only difference being that their chosen way of communication was usually in the form of an argument- raised voices and back stabbing.

They both gazed out that window. Both were reliving different memories, memories of their younger selves. Jenny sat there remembering a time in her life when she had had a blood family. When her mother was alive, and so was her father.

_The snow was deep, the weather cold and the little red-haired girls face pink. She ran around the garden which was scattered with snowmen of various sizes and snow angels. Her father was chasing her, attempting to bring her inside, yet failing. Her mother stood at the door, arms folded and apron on as she'd left her baking to witness the father and daughter time which always brought a smile to her face. After ten minutes of chasing and the marine failing, her mum stepped in front of the small girl. She picked her up and spun the girl around, taking her inside whilst boasting to her husband about being able to catch Jenny. They all went in to hot chocolate and a roaring fire after that._

Jenny didn't remember much from her other childhood. But she had always remembered that memory; her father had always told her the story. It was one of the few he told her which also featured her mother. She had died when Jenny was young so Jenny didn't much remember her. It had been a hard time but she had been told stories all through her life and that one had surprisingly stuck. A tear rolled down the director's cheek but it was quickly brushed away.

Meanwhile Gibbs was also reliving times bygone. It was a memory which often caused hurt, yet not today. Today was one that just, made him smile.

_It was Jethro's first Christmas with Shannon. They had been married six months and he had managed to get this Christmas off. So, there the newlyweds sat on a bench. She rested her head on his chest and they smiled content in each other's presence. Snow began to fall slowly. He grabbed her hand and stood up. The pair began to dance in the cold as the snow it fell. _

Jethro smiled at the memory, yet when he saw the few tears which were falling down his partners face he simply took her hand and squeezed. It was his way of letting her know he was there. They looked into each other's eyes. Both knew in that split second that their feelings from Paris had never left, only been pushed down beneath anger and regret. Their peaceful moment was soon interrupted by an announcement coming through on the speakers.

"Hello snowed in NCIS-ers! My name is Abby Scuito and you are listening to 'It's all Tony's fault FM!"

The two simply laughed as Tony could be heard protesting about the radio station name. "I never did see why Morrow put those speakers up, I do now though," commented Jenny.

"Ignore my seemingly stupid friend, I will have Ziva headslap him for you Gibbs. Yes I know you're up there silver-haired fox, and you too our fearless leader. Now let's get into the mood with a Christmas we all know. Well all except Ziva anyway, here is _'A Fairy-tale of New York'_."

_It was Christmas Eve babe__  
><em>_In the drunk tank__  
><em>_An old man said to me, won't see another one__  
><em>_And then he sang a song__  
><em>_The rare old mountain Dew__  
><em>_I turned my face away__  
><em>_And dreamed about you_

The first verse of the song began to play and they both smiled. Gibbs looked at Jenny and caught her eye. The little glint reminded him of Paris when she had always been smiling. It was the glint he had dreamed of night after night.

_Got on a lucky one__  
><em>_Came in eighteen to one__  
><em>_I've got a feeling__  
><em>_This year's for me and you__  
><em>_So happy Christmas__  
><em>_I love you baby__  
><em>_I can see a better time__  
><em>_When all our dreams come true_

Gibbs stood up surprising Jenny and held out his hand. Catching on she took it and stood up. They slowly began to dance, just like they had along the river in Paris.

_They've got cars big as bars__  
><em>_They've got rivers of gold__  
><em>_But the wind goes right through you__  
><em>_It's no place for the old__  
><em>_When you first took my hand__  
><em>_On a cold Christmas Eve__  
><em>_You promised me__  
><em>_Broadway was waiting for me_

_You were handsome__  
><em>_You were pretty__  
><em>_Queen of New York City__  
><em>_When the band finished playing__  
><em>_They howled out for more__  
><em>_Sinatra was swinging,__  
><em>_All the drunks they were singing__  
><em>_We kissed on a corner__  
><em>_Then danced through the night_

"On my first Christmas with Shannon we danced in the snow. She had a cold for a week after that," Gibbs said.

"Thank you, for telling me. It means a lot. My dad used to dance with me as a child. I'd step on this feat and follow him. My mum would watch from the door, she'd come up to me and tap my shoulder, and then she and my dad would dance. After she died he never danced again. When I was fifteen he took me to some dance he had to attend. He just sat on the edge instead of joining in." She gave a sad smile as did he. Leaning down he gently kissed her head.

_The boys of the NYPD choir__  
><em>_Still singing "Galway Bay"__  
><em>_And the bells were ringing out__  
><em>_For Christmas day_

The sound of the other agents singing along could be heard over the speakers causing their bosses to laugh.

_I could have been someone__  
><em>_Well so could anyone__  
><em>_You took my dreams from me__  
><em>_When I first found you__  
><em>_I kept them with me babe__  
><em>_I put them with my own__  
><em>_Can't make it all alone__  
><em>_I've built my dreams around you_

The last verse of the song played through and Jethro leant down and kissed Jenny passionately on the lips. She responded easily and when they parted the pair both smiled.

"I've missed you Jen." He said those words with such emotion that she almost cried her heard out. He took a loose pieced of her hair and put it behind her ear. They once more kissed each other.

"I missed you too Jethro."

This Christmas Eve had been the best both of them had experienced in a long time. Maybe snow would hold new memories from now on, and Christmas wouldn't be forgotten any more but spent together…


	10. Awful Good Girl NCIS SheDemon

**Title:** Awful Good Girl

**Author:** NCIS She-Demon

**For:** AliviaAlise

**Rating:** K+

It was late on Christmas Eve. Jennifer Shepard was at home sitting in her study, drinking peppermint schnapps and listening to some of her favorite Christmas tunes. Some of them were older, some of them were new.

She'd loved Christmas as a child. The lights, the sounds, the smells, and of course, the presents; the whole season she'd loved. It was the one time of year where everything seemed to be right in the world. Even her mother, who during the rest of the year would nag her for not being the perfect socialite Army brat, would relax during the Christmas season.

As she got older, things changed. Her mother died when she was 13. With her mother gone, she became freer to be the tomboy. Of course when she was in college, her dad was spending more time overseas. She remembered a few Christmases that she spent with friends.

Then shortly after she graduated from college, her father died. Of course the official story was that he'd killed himself. But she knew better.

Shortly after that, she had gone to work at NCIS with the plan to work her way up to a position where she could do what she deemed would be a _proper_ investigation. Of course things never go according to plan. Fate, it seemed, had decided to throw a monkey wrench into her plan. The monkey wrench being the one Leroy Jethro Gibbs. For a while, he'd been the forbidden fruit: the handsome (and he knew it), married boss. Until the divorce from the battleaxe that was Diane; who after seeing Jen talking with Gibbs after work hours about a case, assumed that he had been cheating on her with Jen.

Then the Christmases she spent in Europe while she was with Jethro, those were happy ones. But before she went down that road, her favorite Christmas song started to play. It was _Santa Baby_, by Eartha Kitt.

_Santa Baby, slip a sable under the tree, for me.  
><em>_Been an awful good girl, Santa baby,  
><em>_so hurry down the chimney tonight.  
><em>_Santa baby, a 54 convertible too,  
><em>_Light blue.  
><em>_I'll wait up for you dear,  
><em>_Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight._

_Think of all the fun I've missed,  
><em>_Think of all the fellas that I haven't kissed,  
><em>_Next year I could be just as good,  
><em>_If you'll check off my Christmas list,  
><em>_Santa baby, I wanna yacht,  
><em>_And really that's not a lot,  
><em>_Been an angel all year,  
><em>_Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight._

_Santa honey, there's one thing I really do need,  
><em>_The deed  
><em>_To a platinum mine,  
><em>_Santa honey, so hurry down the chimney tonight.  
><em>_Santa cutie, and fill my stocking with a duplex,  
><em>_And checks.  
><em>_Sign your 'X' on the line,  
><em>_Santa cutie, and hurry down the chimney tonight._

_Come and trim my Christmas tree,  
><em>_With some decorations bought at Tiffany's,  
><em>_I really do believe in you,  
><em>_Let's see if you believe in me,  
><em>_Santa baby, forgot to mention one little thing,  
><em>_A ring.  
><em>_I don't mean on the phone,  
><em>_Santa baby, so hurry down the chimney tonight,_

_Hurry down the chimney tonight,  
><em>_Hurry, tonight._

After the song was over, Jenny heard a knock on the door. Wondering who it was, she padded over to the door to open it.

"Jethro what are you doing here, on Christmas? I thought that you'd be at Abby's party."

The forensic scientist had begged Jen to come to her Christmas party. She had declined, much to Abby's dismay. She was also suspicious of a plot the young woman from Louisiana had cooked up. It concerned getting her and Jethro back together after all these years. While musing, he said, "You gonna let me in Jen, or are you going to let me freeze out here?"

Taking her out of a daze, she let him into the house. He hadn't been inside her home in years. He made his way to the living room where the tree was.

"Christmas all alone Jen?"

The two of them had a silent conversation with only their eyes. This was a habit from the old days from when they'd been work partners and lovers. It still worked as well as it had seven years ago. Then Jen saw him smirk while looking above her head. Irritated slightly she asked, "What's so funny Jethro?"

He didn't answer her, just walked closer till he was right in front of her.

"Look up Jenny."

She looked up, and saw to her discomfiture, mistletoe. She started to say, "I told Noemi to keep that put away this year, I—"

Her train of thought was immediately interrupted, when Jethro kissed her. It wasn't one of the kisses that they'd shared while in Europe, but it had the potential to become more. Letting up for air, with darkening blue eyes, Jethro said, "Merry Christmas Jen."

Putting her arms around him for another round of kissing, Jenny said something that she never thought she would say again.

"Merry Christmas Jethro."


	11. Grinching Out tayababy

**Title: **Grinching Out

**Author:** tayababy

**For:** fashiongirl97

**Rating:** K+

**Prompt**: tinsel

_A little background; I live in Australia, where December is a summer month, and Christmas is supposed to be hot and humid and the family eating a mostly cold meal because to put the oven on would mean to bake everyone. To me, it doesn't feel like Christmas, it's too commercialised, and it doesn't help that I'm the youngest in my family now (because my younger sister moved to Leeds to study), so the magic went years ago. So, here's my Christmas angst, and we can be miserable together. Merry Christmas :P_

It wasn't the ideal Christmas she wanted; celebrating Christmas on one's own never was. But, that was the way it had been for years, and the way it would continue to be.

Unless…

She pulled herself off the floor of her study – she had no idea why she was even down there in the first place – and recapped the bourbon decanter. There was nothing around her to denote the season, no decorations, no tree, nothing; it was depressing.

The whole season was depressing, once you had outgrown the 'magic'.

Her phone rang, breaking the silence surrounding her. She sighed heavily, reaching up to the top of her desk to retrieve the shrilling, vibrating, _annoying_, contraption.

'What?' she snapped. The whole damn office knew not to bother her the week she was designated on leave.

'Geez, Jen, calm down,' he chuckled over the line. 'Whatcha doin'?'

She sighed, glaring at the phone even though she knew he couldn't see it. 'Jethro, did you even get the Do Not Disturb memo I sent around the office yesterday?'

'Nope, and even if I did…' he trailed off.

She sighed; he was right. There had never been a time where he'd listened to a single request for solitude; he was just as lonely as she was. What better way to spend a family holiday than two lonely souls being lonely together.

Well, lonely and drunk. His seemingly-never ending supply of bourbon was always a plus.

'Jen?' his husky voice pulled her out of her reverie.

'I'm sorry, did you say something?' Antagonising him was always fun.

Jethro chuckled. 'Woman, you need to pay more attention. I'm coming over, end of discussion, no arguments, no protests.'

Jen laughed at his seriousness. 'Fine, but if you come empty-handed, I'm throwing you straight back to the kerb.'

'Tell Noemi to put something on the stove; I'll be there in 20.'

She put her phone back on her desk, smiling for the first time in days.

He said twenty minutes, she expected him there in ten.

What she didn't expect, however, was the armloads of tinsel and other assorted decorations he was sporting on her doorstep.

'What in the… Jethro!'

Gibbs smiled over the armload of Christmas gear and waltzed through the door, straight past the homeowner, and into her study. 'No more grinching out, Jen.'

Jen followed him through, her arms firmly crossed on her chest. 'Excuse me? _Grinching_ out?'

'Yeah, you know, _The Grinch Who Stole Christmas_?'

Jen couldn't help it; she chuckled. 'Since when have I been likened to the Grinch?'

Jethro dumped his load unceremoniously on her desk, effectively covering the mountain of paperwork she had been avoiding. 'Ever since you turned down Abby and her annual Secret Santa event, she's been walking around, telling anyone who'll listen just how Grinch-like you're being this year.'

'And you, the advocate of all things not-Christmas, are the one on my doorstep with arms laden full of Christmas paraphernalia?' she raised an eyebrow. 'That's brave of you. Did you volunteer, or did you pull the short straw?'

Gibbs at least had the gall to put an innocent look on his face, not that she'd ever been able to tell his a lie from the truth on his face. 'Maybe…' he trailed off.

Jen shook her head, clicking her tongue as she pulled the bourbon out of its hiding place. 'Tell Abby I'll make it up to her for New Years.'

* * *

><p>She never expected to be wrapped head-to-toe in tinsel, but once Abby and the team crashed their non-celebration of the season, bearing spirits to the tune of vodka, tequila and Christmas cheer, it was clear the now-demolished desk load of decorations had a purpose.<p>

'So, Jenny, all I wanna know for Christmas is why you Grinch out of the season,' Abby announced later. They were all lying in the living room, a fire blazing steadily to keep them warm, when her voice woke them from drunken slumbers.

Jenny snorted; that was one story she was not planning on sharing. 'I plead the fifth,' she raised her hand, not moving any other part of her body off the floor.

'Awww, come on,' Tony whined; tequila really did make him act more like an overgrown child than usual, not that he'd ever admit it. 'Didn't your mama ever tell you not to lie or keep secrets?' he teased.

The offhand comment stung and was sobering almost immediately. 'Maybe my mom's the reason I can't stand the season,' she whispered, her mind flashing back.

_The seven-year-old pushed open the door of the kitchen excitedly – Christmas was her favourite time of year – and the sight that greeted her shocked her._

_Her mother was lying on the tiled floor in a pool of blood._

'_Mommy?' she couldn't move – her feet wouldn't move – but her mommy wasn't moving either. 'Mommy!'_

The memory brought tears to her eyes, the drops running down the sides of her face to sink into her tinsel halo. Her mother had been murdered on Christmas, and she hadn't celebrated since. She shared a quick look with Jethro; he had bullied the story out of her the first season they had shared together all those years ago in Paris. He reached a hand out to hold hers, and she smiled at the show of support.

'Jen?' Ziva's soft voice pulled her out of her reverie; she was one of the few other people who knew. 'There is no shame in sharing your scars.'

The red head turned to look at her, a soft smile gracing her pale face. 'Thank you Ziva, but some things aren't meant to be shared. Until better memories come along, I think I'll stick with the ones I have.'

'And until then, you'll keep Grinching out of Christmas?' Tony poked his tongue out, most definitely too drunk to remember the conversation in the morning.

Jen smiled, gripping Jethro's hand. 'Yeah, until then, I'm Grinching out of Christmas.'


	12. Merry Christmas VERYobsessedwithNCIS

**Title: **Merry Christmas Scrooge

**Author: **VERYobsessedwithNCIS

**For: **TheBreakfastGenie

**Rating: **K+

Jenny hated Christmas.

On her way into work that morning she had been forced to ask her driver to turn off the noisy radio as the barrage of upbeat Christmas music that the DJ's were playing had been more than she could take.

This bad start to the day had led to her spending the day at the office in a thoroughly bad mood snapping at people who dared to approach her with ferocity that surprised even her. She fully expected Jethro to be at her door any moment now demanding an apology for the comments she had flung his way this morning. She also had no doubts that by now she probably owed Cynthia another Hermes scarf and a substantial bonus to compensate her hurt feelings.

When Jethro did not come she settled down at her desk hoping to relax, disappointed when she found she was not able to stop the flow of thoughts that invaded her head pushing away the last of her restraint.

* * *

><p>The month of December was a time of year that held many unpleasant memories for her, each seemingly worse than the last. Her childhood Christmases should have been perfect as she was showered with expensive gifts and her nurse had done everything possible to try and make it a magical time for her.<p>

However no matter how many gifts she was given or beautiful food she ate, the fact that her father was rarely there did not disappear. Now she knew first hand that Christmas on the hill was exceedingly busy, the seemingly endless benefits and corporate 'dos' that came with a job such as the one her father had held did not leave much time for family life. Unfortunately this fact did not help the little girl she had been not miss her father's presence in the season that was meant to be more about family than most but often for her was the most solitary time of the year.

As she grew older her experiences only became worse culminating in the worst of all. The Christmas her father was murdered.

For the first time in what seemed like forever they had been going to spend Christmas together in DC. She had arranged so that she was not on duty and spent many hours planning in her mind what they would do and what they would say and even longer online picking out the perfect present for him in anticipation of the event.

Walking in to find her father seated in the study at the other side of the foyer she had called out to him believing him to only be asleep. The shock and despair she had suffered when she found him dead, was only exceeded by how silly she felt for ever believing that something good could happen to her at Christmas. That was the year that she truly gave up the idea altogether and that she resolved to avenge him.

* * *

><p>In many regards Christmas spent with Jethro had been a welcome release from people expecting her to be cheerful and happy as he had always seemed to understand what she was feeling. This meant that around him she could for once truly be herself.<p>

Now knowing about Shannon and Kelly, she understood exactly why he had never been surprised by her melancholy moods and long periods of seclusion. He knew just how she felt.

After she had left him to carry on with her five point plan, her Christmases along with the rest of her life had grown ever lonelier. Colleagues and even old friends slowly stopped extending the invitations to parties and dinners knowing that she would only sharply refuse their friendly advances into her despair. This meant she often found herself spending the festive season alone reflecting on her Christmases past, wondering why she was so miserable and blaming others for her own mistakes.

* * *

><p>Jenny only awoke from her thoughts when there was a soft knock at the door. She had scarcely recovered her composure enough to wonder who it was at this late hour when the door opened to reveal Jethro with a look of worried anticipation on his face.<p>

"Go away," she ordered harshly not in the mood for an argument. He didn't listen striding over to the opposite side of the office setting down one of the objects he had been carrying. It was a Christmas tree, adorned with enough lights and baubles that it looked as if it had been decorated by Abby the Queen of Christmas herself. Actually she wouldn't be at all surprised if it had.

He then proceeded to quickly lay out fancy-looking cutlery along with plates and takeout containers on the conference table that inhabited her office, before slowly turning to look at her properly for the first time.

She glanced at him feeling puzzled before asking, "What are you doing?"

He replied sounding exasperated, "It's Christmas Eve, Jenny."

Placing her head in her hands she mumbled, "I don't celebrate Christmas."

"I've noticed. It's time you let go and moved on with your life. Not everything has to come back to your father."

"Move on," she stated. "Like you have?" She felt even as she said it that this was a low blow but she didn't anticipate what he did next.

He picked her up with his strong arms and carried her bridal fashion (something he'd obviously had experience with) over to the table before sitting down in the seat opposite. "No" he replied "Like I am."

Momentarily silenced, shocked at the fact he was actually displaying his emotions she let him open her takeout container, touched when he revealed steak au poivre saying, "I know how you feel about Christmas dinner. Merry Christmas Scrooge."

Looking into his eyes in indignation she saw what she had missed for so long. Love.

For the first time in years she began to see that perhaps something good could happen at Christmas. Perhaps she could have family to share it with too.

This realisation enabled her to reply,

"Thank you Jethro, perhaps it is a Merry Christmas after all."


	13. More Than Just Presents Quibilah

**Title: **More Than Just Presents

**Author: **Quibilah

**For: **Pandora of Ithilien

**Rating: **K+

Why is it that people always have to be murdered so close to Christmas? Of course, in general someone being killed is terrible, but can't the bad guys out there take a break? For crying out loud, it's Christmas Eve! Thank goodness Gibbs' team managed to find the killer a few hours ago.

These were the thoughts going through Jenny's head as she finished reading the last report the team had given her, the case being a high priority, signing off couldn't wait until after the holiday, which she'd never disobey a direct order, it didn't stop her from grumbling to herself once back in her office.

She was just getting ready to sign the report when Gibbs strolled into her office, and by the way he stopped abruptly upon seeing her, he didn't expect her to be here.

"Jen…?" he asked making sure the items in his hand were well hidden behind his back.

"Gibbs?" she asked back, feeling like he was up to something; she slowly got out of her chair and made her way around her desk to lean on the front of it. "What ya got there?" She tilted her head slightly to indicate he hadn't fooled her with his 'Pro-hiding' ability.

"Don't know what you're talking about." And with a straight face and his hand still hidden behind his back, he started to slowly back out of her office.

"Ah, ah, ah!" Jenny said lunging off the desk to find out what Gibbs was trying to plant in her office while she was out; no doubt he tried again once she left.

When Gibbs saw Jenny's intentions, he skillfully turned on his heel, keeping the items hidden from her gaze and started to make a break for the elevator… truth be told, he should have known it wouldn't work, with her heels on she was fast, but with them _off_ and her on a mission? Oh, he knew he could get to the elevator before her without a problem; no, the problem was, she would either get there before the doors closed and box him into an enclosed space, or race down the stairs and he'd have the same dilemma when the cart reached the ground floor.

Yes, he knew all this… did that stop him from trying? Nope, not at all, call it Christmas childish games; he was doing this to just have some fun.

So, he made it to the elevator, got in it, but just as the doors were closing, she jumped through them, so fast; the doors didn't register and open up again. She was grinning from ear to ear showing she was enjoying herself completely… and what's this, she had also grabbed her coat and purse… '_Dang! The desk job hasn't made her slow!'_ was the thought that passed through his head as he backed into the corner of the elevator, keeping his precious cargo hidden.

"You going to show me what it is you were planning on putting in my office without my knowledge, or am I gonna have to find out for myself?" And from the grin and mischief in her eyes, she already knew what the answer would be.

She thought for a minute about the best way to figure out what was behind his back, and when an idea, granted, not a _sane_ idea, but a fun one nonetheless, popped into her head, her grin turned from mischief, to alluring.

She almost laughed out loud when she saw the amusement in Gibbs' eyes changed to want with a hint of shock.

"…Jen…?" he asked for the second time as she slowly started to move towards him, putting a bit more sway into her hips than normally.

"Yes boss?" she asked innocently while she was laughing hysterically on the inside, oh yes, she remembered his reactions when she would say that in just the way she said it now and it was still the same.

His eyes went wide with lust and coherent thought started to leave his mind as she continued to make her way towards him.

"Your shoulders are so tense boss, here, let me give them a good rub and loosen them up for ya." She was grinning now, her method was working… with a slight little problem… it was affecting her a whole lot more than she originally had planned.

She started to massage his shoulders as she moved her body in rhythm with her hands, just barely touching him. As soon as she saw his eyes close and his head drop backwards, she quickly reached around and grabbed the large objects and as she yanked him, still incoherent, she was able to get them from his grasp.

She had been expecting a trick, for him to be playing some sort of Christmas prank on her, not… _this_!

"Cheater!" Gibbs pouted, but when Jenny looked up she could tell he was just acting, he was really watching her reaction to the gift.

"I remember how much you loved to skate and I believe, if I recall correctly, that you were just telling Ziva you couldn't ice skate with her and Abby New Years Eve because you didn't have any skates. I won't lie, you were the most difficult to get a gift for, and you spoil the surprise by running me down…"

The rest of his response was cut off by her bear hug. She always did become a small child around Christmas time. She pulled back and stared at him for a moment without speaking, trying to find an answer without asking a question.

"Are you busy?... I mean, I know it's late on Christmas Eve, and you probably have somewhere to be, but I thought if you weren't you'd like… well you might like to come with me to give these skates a try… you know, because it's not safe to go ice skating on a lake and all by yourself in case you fall in, not that I expect the lake I want to skate will break if we… I skate on it… shut up!" She stopped her rambling when she saw his huge grin and the effort he was putting into not laughing.

"Madam Director, am I correct in thinking you are asking me out? How did I get so lucky to land a redheaded cutie like you?" He said in a fake southern drawl… yeah… he became childlike too, who didn't! "There you go ruining the Christmas surprise I had, AND taking my thunder of asking you out, I'm Hurt!" He feigned it by putting a hand over his heart and slouching forwards somewhat.

Jen's cheeks flushed and she had an embarrassed smile on her face as she looked down at the skates. "Oh hush! Do you want to or not?" She barked in mock anger.

"What kind of fool would I be if I said no to such a lady?" He knew he was acting funny, but he was an extremely happy guy at the moment, who wouldn't be if the woman you loved was giving you another chance?

"Keep it up cowboy, and I might take it back!" she grinned as his smiling face slipped for a second before catching her joke.

The car doors had opened and she strolled out in front of him, walking straight to his car, leaving him to deal with the security detail staring after her in confusion.

"Going ice skating," was all he said walking by them to his car.

"Where to?" Gibbs asked, as she gave him directions; they listened to Christmas carols softly on the radio.

Gibbs pulled up to a beautiful ice pond somewhat secluded with a line of trees around most of it. He turned to see Jen's face and knew he's made the right decision with the skates when her eyes lit up and her smile was that wide.

"Wait! You don't have any skates!" Jenny just realized the flaw in her plan and frowned until Gibbs reached behind him and grabbed a rather old looking pair of skates she recognized from when they skated years ago.

"Can we turn up the radio so we can hear the carols while we skate?" She was hopeful, he wouldn't deny her that.

Music turned up, skates on, they skated around listening to carol after carol, some being sung along to, some just being enjoyed. When Jenny started to get tired she gently set herself on the ground and looked up at the stars.

A few moments later, she heard, rather than saw Gibbs' rather ungraceful plummet to the ice beside her.

"Never was good at stopping on these things."

"What time is it?" Jenny just realized she forgot to do something she promised she'd do for Abby's party tomorrow.

"Half past ten, why?" Gibbs hoped she wasn't regretting their date-thing and wanting to get home to get away from him.

"Crap! I forgot to make the cookies for Abby's party tomorrow! Do you know how long that will take!" she burst, while gracefully getting to her feet and turning to see Gibbs struggling to get to his.

She laughed out loud before bending over and helping him to his feet.

"You know, I do believe it's supposed to be me helping _you_ to your feet," he said laughing as he started to lose balance again, but was able to steady himself by grabbing hold of Jen's shoulder… at least he thought he had seeing as he didn't feel any pulling between him and Jenny… a second later he felt his backside make contact with the ice. '_At least I'm sitting_,' he thought before he heard her muffled scream and felt her body connect with his.

"Woops…" was all he could say as they both started laughing.

"Let's try this again shall we?" Jenny asked starting to push herself off of him, only to be pulled back down.

"Jethro?" Jenny asked confused before looking into his eyes. She saw desire and love in them, and as much fun as the skates were, this was a whole lot better. She smiled and leaned forward claiming his mouth with hers.

Coming up for air was a nuisance, really it was, but it also made her remember she did have something she really needed to do.

"Not that I don't want to continue this, but I have to make cookies for Abby… being a gentleman, I'm sure you're going to offer to help, especially since I know for a fact you can bake from scratch.

He grinned before leaning forward and planting a short sweet kiss on her lips, before pulling back and allowing her to help him up.

"I'll take that as a yes?" When she saw him 'debating' she played along, "I'll definitely give _you_ a treat after we make some for Abby." She said giving him the same grin she had in the elevator earlier in the evening.

"Now how could I say not to that?" he said while running, well as fast as he could being not very good on skates, and pulling her with him towards his car eager to get the baking started and finished so he could have his treat.


	14. Scrooge versus Gibbs AliviaAlise

**Title**: Scrooge Versus Gibbs

**Author**: AliviaAlise

**For**: Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs (YO, MY HO-HO-HOMIE.)

**Rating**: T.

**Disclaimer**: Nope. No ma'am. Or sir. Or both.

_A/N- At three in the morning the day it was due, what I originally wrote became something entirely different. Really. I had it completely planned out, then something inside my muse wouldn't cooperate. So, as of now, I shall label it 'Jibbsy' and say Merry Christmas to Liz, and be done. Enjoy, por favor mis amigos. (I speak Spanish and I'm blonde.)_

"Gibbs, if you miss my Christmas party again I will be mad. Way mad. Like, more mad than if you'd... forgotten my Caf Pow!"

Jethro Gibbs heaved a sigh and pursed his lips, avoiding the zealous Goth's stare like the plague.

"Abby-"

"No! No, Gibbs! No 'buts' allowed. You're going to be here at seven. You're going to drink peppermint schnapps. You're going to _like it_!" she thundered.

He gave her a dark look. Abby shifted a hand to her hip, rolling her eyes a little.

"Fine. You can drink bourbon, and sulk in the corner. But you'll be here!"

With that, she scurried back to her humble establishment of a forensic lab, leaving Gibbs to stare at the barely awake squad room.

It wasn't even sunrise, and he already had a bad attitude. Thick garland hung from the dividers between each team's space. Out of his steely peripheral vision, he could make out the quaint tree.

Christmas Eve smelled like Jamaican blend and Ziva's pine needle scented smell goods.

He had the feeling he was in for one hell of a night.

* * *

><p>"Jethro, you know I can't do anything! You didn't have a warrant. Anything pertaining to that apartment is unacceptable in this case. Find something else," she muttered, eyes tight.<p>

Why in God's name did he _have_ to start something like this, on a holiday, none the less? Jennifer Sheppard met his glare unabashedly.

He was in for a nice surprise if he thought he'd get away with this that easily.

"Jen, you _know _we can't let the bastard get away. He can't do this to another family-"

"Don't you think I know that Jethro! I'm not saying he won't go away for what he's done, but you have to _find another way_."

She watched a muscle in his jaw quiver, and she felt a stirring deep in the pit of her stomach. The room stilled, a hint of disappointment touching his eyes.

Jenny sighed, glancing down at her nails.

They really needed to stop starting and finishing conversations like this. Gibbs stood up without another word.

Jenny opened her mouth as if to say something, and then stopped herself.

The sound of the door hitting its frame resounded through the air as he left the room.

* * *

><p><em>She tugged the plastic wrapping down with her teeth and bit down, hard. The heady taste of peppermint assaulted her nostrils, making her eyes water. Jenny studied his broad features, his tense stature.<em>

"_You think this is silly, don't you?" she inquired primly, feigning offense._

"_Well, Jen, we are making cookies for Santa." He rolled his eyes, and listened to the timer tick away._

_She gasped in mock outrage."Leroy. Jethro. Gibbs," she hissed dangerously. Jenny narrowed her eyes and pointed a manicured finger at him._

"_Are you telling me you don't believe?"_

_Gibbs laughed, then glanced down at her shirt. In a moment, he pulled her close by her hip, so close he could practically taste the candy cane on her breath._

"_I believe that shirt is cut entirely too low for you not to be on the 'Naughty List' this year, Jen," he said, matter of fact._

_She threw her head back, laughing mirthfully. Breath hitching at the sight of her pale, exposed neck, Jethro leaned in, tickling her neck as he exhaled._

_He pressed his lips to her carotid artery. Teeth just grazing the sensitive skin-_

"Director, Abby is here," Cynthia's voice rang shrilly through the intercom, breaking her from her oh so illicit reminiscing.

Jenny shook her head at her own self.

"Send her in, please. Thank you."

Abby was seated across from her not five seconds later.

"Director Sheppard, now I know you said not to go overboard on the decorating for the party tonight but I thought adding maybe _one _more mistletoe wouldn't be that big of a deal since-"

"Abby, that's fine. Do as much as you'd like, just keep it _reasonable_. Alright?"

The woman looked like she'd been given a million dollars.

"Yes! Of course. Thank you, thank you, _thank you!_"

Jenny nodded, a smile gracing her lips. She turned back to the paperwork spread out in front of her.

Abby's green eyes narrowed at a sudden thought. She bit her lip. "Jenny?"

At the sound of her name, Jenny looked up sharply. She hadn't heard Abby call her that since... before Tony was nearly killed.

In fact, no one had been quick to approach the redhead in a while. Jenny perked up at the sound of it.

"Yes, Abby?"

"Will you be there tonight? Gibbs wants you to go. Keep him company," she pleaded, sounding sincere.

Abby's eyes had taken a sudden softness.

"I know he misses you," she murmured, a smirk tugging at the corner of her black mouth.

Reaching a hand up to remove the glasses perched upon her delicate nose, Jenny contemplated it for a moment. Shrugging wordlessly, she finally nodded.

"I'll try my best, Abs."

The grin that split the Goth's face was blinding.

* * *

><p>Later, when Jenny eventually put down a mound of paperwork, she realized how late it had gotten. It was already nearly eight.<p>

Considering the holiday, she acted as she would never, under normal circumstances.

Heaving a breath, she left her office, set on drinking a little cider, and maybe munching on a Christmas cookie or two. She'd even say a pleasant word to Jethro, intent on making Abby a little happier.

The past few weeks had been exhausting.

Lonely. Quiet.

Since Jeanne, since Rene Benoit, things had settled to the point of icy. Ziva, Tony, Abby, McGee, and especially Jethro, had been content on ignoring her presence unless absolutely necessary. She was the floor they walked upon. A cold politician.

A conniving bitch.

She couldn't say she blamed them for not wanting to have anything to do with her. She couldn't stand _herself _as it was.

Her actions were inexcusable, and she couldn't find it within herself to apologize. Those months of obsession, depression, were a mere blur to her. The haze of determination, of arrogance and revenge, was still like a vague dream.

She remembers that she drank a lot.

She also remembers the look in Jethro's eyes when he realized she'd used Tony as a game piece.

Jenny wrung her hands as the elevator descended, hoping she'd get a word in with him sooner or later. They couldn't continue to let things go unsaid.

They just couldn't.

* * *

><p>Gibbs sat at his desk, listening to his team banter lightly.<p>

They'd gotten the evidence they needed. Ryan Murphy was in custody, to be charged on the 26th. All things considered, Jethro Gibbs was in a pretty easy going mood.

He'd even put up with DiNozzo and David flirting for a good five minutes. A new record.

His gaze fell upon the redhead currently strolling towards him.

"Jen," he acknowledged, inclining his head.

Jenny smiled at him, gesturing towards the chair next to his desk. He nodded, blue eyes falling to the sway of her hips, the forest green material that hugged her curves.

Jenny hardly ever wore dresses anymore. It was nice to see her in green too. He'd always preferred the color on her. Matched her eyes.

"You got Murphy," she said lightly.

"Yeah. Couldn't run for long."

The flow of conversation was uneven. Holiday music chirped in the background, white noise. She stared at him. The team had given the two a pointed glance, then left to the refreshment bar Abby had set up in the lounge. They were alone.

"Jethro, we have to stop doing this."

He furrowed his brow, although he knew well enough what she was saying. "There's nothing to stop. You made a choice, Director."

The use of her title sent a tinge of pain through her veins, like being shocked. Jenny studied the empty coffee cup on his desk.

"What if it was the wrong one?" she said, still not daring to meet his eyes.

Although they felt alone, they weren't. The talking was more intimacy then they'd shared in a long time though, and she basked in it. The inquiry was dangerous.

"Jen, there isn't any fixing it," he muttered, leaning forward to pull her stare to his. His hand reached up to brush a weathered thumb against her high cheek bone.

She shivered. "I _never_ said I wanted to fix it," Jenny puckered her lips sassily. "Aren't you the man who's built three boats from the foundation up?"

He kept his hand on her cheek, feeling the warmth beneath his own skin. Jethro could smell Ziva's pine needle scented smell goods and Jenny's expensive perfume.

"Yeah, yeah, I can build boats. And?"

Jenny's breath was hot on his face. They were so _close._

"Why don't we start from the bare bones, and build something new?"

Eyes fixed neatly upon her red lips, he couldn't agree more.

It was risky, but it was _real._


	15. The Gift TheBreakfastGenie

**Title: **The Gift

**Author: **TheBreakfastGenie

**For: **Kari-Kateora

**Rating:** K+

"Are you gonna tell us why we're all standing here Abby?"

"Relax Tony, I'm getting there. To get NCIS in the Christmas spirit this year, I've organized a Secret Santa Gift Exchange!"

"There's no way you'll get permission to do that."

"Stop being such a stick in the mud, McGee! I already got the Director's approval!"

"Did _Gibbs_ give you the okay?"

"She out-ranks. Come on! This is supposed to be fun! Take a name!"

"Uh... how many people are going to be involved in this, anyway?" McGee asked warily.

"Oh, just a few. Ducky and Palmer already drew their names."

"Really? Who'd they get?" The question slipped out of Tony's mouth without thinking. Abby glared at him.

"I can't tell you! For all you know one of them drew your name!"

"Right, right," Tony muttered, reaching for the red bucket decorated with sparkly green skull stickers. He had no idea where she had gotten them. Reluctantly, Tony drew out a little scroll, tied with red ribbon.

"Good job!" Abby beamed, turning to Ziva and McGee. "Okay, who's next?"

"I will draw next," Ziva offered, placing her hand inside the bucket. The scroll she drew was tied with green ribbon.

"I thought it looked better if they weren't all the same color," Abby explained innocently. McGee narrowed his eyes.

"You didn't rig this, did you?"

"McGee! Would I do something like that?" Her smile was so sweet it was suspicious. "Why don't you go ahead and take your scroll, Tim?"

"Fine, fine. I can't believe you talked me into this." As soon as Tim's fingers latched around the rolled up piece of paper Abby snatched the bucket away, hoping no one had noticed that McGee took the last one.

"You may now open your scrolls. No one got themselves, right?" The three agents shook their heads. "Good, you are now free to go!" As soon as the last person had left and the lab was empty one again, Abby raced to her drawer and remove two more scrolls, one tied with red, one with green.

"Stage one... complete!" she said happily to herself. "Now to find Gibbs and the Director!"

* * *

><p>"Gibbs!" Abby yelled joyfully, rocketing into the bullpen. "There you are! What happened to the others?"<p>

"Chasing leads," he responded gruffly. "What's up, Abs?"

"My Secret Santa Exchange! Come on, Gibbs, you have to draw a name, otherwise the numbers won't work!" Gibbs sighed.

"Abby..." he began, only to be cut off.

"Gibbs! You have to do it! Everyone else is! Even the Director agreed to!"

"Just this once, Abs." Abby grinned.

"Of course, Gibbs. Just this once." _'Just this once indeed,' _Abby thought mischievously. She had carefully arranged the two scrolls in her bucket so that the red ribbon was on top, thought it wasn't entirely necessary. It just looked less suspicious if he only had to see one.

Without waiting for permission, Gibbs opened his scroll. Written, in beautiful green script, was the name of the one person he simply could not buy a gift for.

"Abby... no. Not this one."

"Gibbs!" she cried indignantly, faking both offense and alarm. "No switching! If I let you do it I have to let everyone else do it! And don't say they won't have to know because believe it or not I _do_ have a conscience!" Gibbs sighed deeply, resigned to his fate. Of all the luck...

"Thanks Gibbs! Gotta go! Merry Christmas!" Abby skipped off before he could protest again. _Well, that's stage two half-done. We're getting close now. Pretty soon it will all be up to them._

* * *

><p>"Director?" Jenny looked up from her computer.<p>

"Yes, Abby?"

"You said you'd participate in my Secret Santa exchange, remember?" Jenny smiled. She wasn't one to get deeply involved in holidays, but only because she had no time and no one to celebrate with. She had been more than willing to buy a small gift for one of her employees. And the anonymity was attractive.

"Okay, Abby. Do you have a name for me?" Abby handed her the scroll.

"Last one!"

"Thank you, Abby." The younger woman grinned.

"Well, I should get back to work. Merry Christmas Director!" The minute the door closed Jenny untied the red ribbon and glanced at the green scrawled name.

"Oh god..." she breathed. The first plan of attack she came up with was rejection. There was no way in hell she could buy a Christmas present for Leroy Jethro Gibbs. Jenny quickly shot down that idea, no matter how tempting. She couldn't just fail to participate in the exchange, not after she'd promised Abby. Another enticing option began to present itself. This ridiculous exchange could be the chance of a lifetime...

* * *

><p>The day of Abby's gift exchange had finally arrived. Some approached the day with apprehension, most were excited. Jenny wasn't entirely sure what she was feeling, but she knew she would be glad when this day was over. Jenny found her gift perched on her desk. <em>Well, bribing Cynthia wouldn't be too difficult, <em>she thought. In the two weeks since Abby had distributed names the Director of NCIS had begun to suspect foul play. It was possible, however, that she was just overly paranoid.

Jenny peeled back the wrapping paper, revealed a flat, purple box. She glanced at the label. _Michael's Family Recipe Peanut Brittle_. It sounded delicious. _Wait... no one at NCIS knows I love peanut brittle... except..._

Jenny picked up the wrapping paper to throw it away, only to stop short. Jenny had seen plain white backing and thin measuring lines, but never before had she come across wrapping paper with a message inked on the back in a familiar scrawl. _Oh my god... oh my god I was right... _Taking a roll of scotch tape from her desk drawer, the Director of NCIS pieced the shredded wrappings back together. Her face paled and her hand flew to her mouth as she read the note. Gathering her things, Jenny hurried to leave, earlier than she'd left her office in years.

* * *

><p>"Jethro?" The click-clack of Jenny's festive red heels echoed in the half-lit basement. She made her way to the silver-haired figure who was busily sanding the frame of a boat. "No decorations?" she teased.<p>

"What do you want me to do, Jen, put lights on the boat?" He didn't bother looking up, but his voice was full of mirth.

"Hey, they do it in Florida. Although those boats tend to be finished."

"So," Jethro set down his sander, turning to face his old partner for the first time; taking in her red peacoat and heels. "Did you get the gift?"

"It was delicious. Did you get yours?" Jethro smirked.

"Yeah, but I think I'm going to appreciate this part more."

"Yes, Jethro, I did read your note. Do you want to know what my answer is?"

"Ya think?" They were so close now they could feel each others' breath, warm in the chilly basement.

"Well, that's too bad, because talking is just going to have to wait," Jenny informed him mischievously. She threw her arms around him, capturing his lips in hers. He pulled back, panting, a grin covering his features.

"I guess I can live with that," he agreed, retaking her mouth. "Merry Christmas, Jen."


	16. Home for the Holidays Mrs ElizabethGibbs

**Title:** Home for the Holidays

**Author:** Mrs. Elizabeth Gibbs

**For:** Quibilah

**Rating:** K+

_A/N: Slightly AU, some timeline changes. Merry Christmas Shannon!_

"Jethro, how am I supposed to tell them that you aren't coming home for Christmas?"

Jenny Shepard rubbed her head in frustration, leaning back against the kitchen counter and pressing her cell phone to her ear. It was Christmas Eve, and Jethro was supposed to be home right at this moment, helping her put the kids to bed.

"Jen, it's the case. You know I'd rather be there," Jethro's static-filled voice replied, and she sighed.

"You can't even just swing by and tuck them in?" she asked tiredly, looking at the plate of cookies that Sarah and Logan had left for Santa already.

"I'm in Norfolk, Jen," Jethro replied, and Jenny bit her lip, closing her eyes as she leaned her head against a cabinet. "If I could, I would. You know that."

"Jethro, you can't miss Christmas too. It will kill them," Jenny whispered, and the unspoken issue of Mexico reared its head. She heard him sigh on the other end of the phone, and she waited.

"I'll see if I can be there in an hour or two. I don't know, though, Jen," he said, and she straightened up, hearing the sounds of feet pattering on the stairs. "Don't promise them anything."

She heard him click off the phone and she followed suit, just as two auburn-haired children burst through the kitchen door.

"Mommy, when is Daddy coming home?" Sarah, the oldest, asked. Jenny looked at the five year old, beckoning the two of them closer so that she could kneel down in front of them and see their eyes.

"Daddy is working a case," she started out, and instantly both kids' faces drooped. Logan, who was two, was still too little to really understand what that meant, but he did know that it meant that Daddy wasn't going to be there to tuck him in. "But he's going to try to get away so he can read you a story, okay?"

Both kids nodded, but Jenny could tell that they both were thinking about the last time Jenny had said their dad was going to try to get away. And that time, he'd gone to Mexico for four months and left them alone.

"How about I make some hot chocolate and we can watch a movie while we wait?" she asked, and both kids nodded, their moods lifting slightly. She sent them into the living room to go through the movie selection that was curtsey of Tony, and started to boil some water on the stove.

Fifteen minutes later she was curled up on the couch with Sarah and Logan, 'How the Grinch Stole Christmas' on the television screen. She kissed the top of Logan's head, the little boy curled into her as his warm breath touched her neck. Sarah was on her other side, her head resting on Jenny's lap.

Occasionally there would be a giggle when the Grinch did something funny, or whenever Max was on the screen- both kids were pushing for a dog, but Jenny wasn't budging. She loved the quiet time with them- she missed it, working so much.

She didn't remember falling asleep, but she was jolted awake when a warm hand settled on her shoulder. Both kids were asleep cuddled up on her, and she blinked at the darkened room.

"Jethro?" she asked, looking at the large, shadowy figure looming over her.

"It's me, Jenny," he said, and she nodded, reaching one arm over Logan's body to rub the sleep from her eyes.

"What time is it?"

"Around eleven thirty," he replied, and her eyes widened slightly- she couldn't believe she'd slept for three hours. "I'll grab Sarah if you've got Logan."

With that he lifted the sleeping five year old up into his arms, and Jenny took a moment to collect herself, and to pick Logan up as she stood. Jenny followed Jethro up the stairs, heading for the kids' room. He had already tucked Sarah in, and Jenny placed Logan in his racecar bed, pulling his comforter up to his chin before pressing a kiss to his forehead. She traded places with Jethro and kissed Sarah, then stepped back and looked at her two sleeping children.

"I'm glad you could make it," she said quietly once they'd closed the door behind them a few minutes later. "It'll mean a lot to the kids."

"I want to be here for them, Jen," Jethro replied, leaning back against the wall and looking at her intently. "I know I still have to make up for not being here when they needed me. I'm never going to stop making that up."

Jenny nodded, folding her arms over her chest.

Things had been so rough since he'd gotten back. Their relationship was nonexistent- whether because he didn't remember it or simply didn't want to be with her, she didn't know- and sometimes it felt like the only thing that connected them anymore was the kids. Sometimes he stayed the night, sometimes he didn't, and the times he did only left Jenny even more confused than before.

"Jenny, I'm never going to stop having to make it up to you either," he said, and she looked up sharply, questions in her eyes. "I know our relationship has been different lately, and I know you're confused. I want to change that, though, Jenny. I do."

"Jethro, is now really the time for this?" Jenny asked, suddenly incredibly tired. "You have to go back to your case, and I have to get up with the kids tomorrow, without you, and try to convince them that you will be there for them. And I don't know if you realize how difficult that is. Do you know how hard it is to tell your daughter her daddy won't be at her first ballet recital?"

Jethro opened his mouth, and Jenny simply raised one hand, cutting him off.

"I'm not finished. I know you had to leave, Jethro. I understand; you couldn't be around your family when it felt like you had just lost Shannon and Kelly. But Logan is two years old, and thinks you are just the coolest person to walk this earth, and when you aren't here he misses you so much," she said, watching his face. "And if you keep coming and going as you have… it's going to hurt him, Jethro. Tony has been more of a father to him that you have recently. And I can't stand that. Jethro, I can't."

The silence was heavy between them, and Jenny sighed again.

"It's Christmas Eve, Jethro," she started, biting her lip. "I just… I can't watch them get hurt anymore."

Jethro didn't say anything; simply pushed off the wall and walked towards her, stopping a mere few inches away. Leaning forward, he kissed her; a long, slow, deep kiss that heated up as it continued. When it ended- rather reluctantly, really- Jenny looked up at Jethro, questions in her eyes.

"There's mistletoe above you," he answered, his voice roughened. Looking up, Jenny spotted the green leaves, shaking her head slightly. "I don't want to hurt them, Jenny, or you. You three mean everything to me. I just… I want to come home, Jenny."

The redhead looked at him, searching his face, and finding nothing but sincerity. Slowly she nodded, a smile taking over her face.

"I'd like that," she whispered, eyes moistening a little. "I'd like that a lot."

He kissed her again, happy and sound and wonderful. Jenny responded easily, a laugh slipping from her lips.

"Welcome home for the holidays, Jethro," she said, and he smiled at her.

"It's good to be home."


	17. Just One More Shot For Me karikateora

**Title:** Just One Shot for Me, Please

**Author: **kari-kateora

**For: **NickyK

**Rating:** T

The music is loud in his ears, the tuneless beat pounding into his eardrums. Garbled lyrics hold no meaning for him. The lighting is so dim that he can barely make out the faces of those around him. He doesn't care. Cigarette smoke is so thick it leaves a heavy fog in the bar. He doesn't care. Whenever the heavy doors open and close, a cold breeze hits his side, lightly ruffling his silvery hair. He doesn't care.

In this bar, drinking down his sorrows, nothing matters anymore.

"Hit me." he says heavily, slamming the small glass down onto the counter in front of him. His voice is slightly slurred, thick.

The bartender eyes him warily, trying to judge how inebriated he is. He's not the first customer to try and drink himself into oblivion. On a night like this, it seems that people reevaluate their choices. Some go to sleep happy, eager to wake up on Christmas morning with those they love. The others – those whose lives are less than what they'd hoped for – are the ones he has to deal with. Still, he'd be damned if he'd let any of those poor souls drink themselves to death.

"You've already had enough." he remarks lightly, looking the man up and down critically. Good build, military type. Likely to cause a scene if he isn't served his drink. Even so, he has to try.

_"Hit me."_ he repeats more forcefully, his eyes bulging a little. A muscle is jumping out on his jaw, giving him an even more threatening look. He has the air of a desperate man, clutching at whatever little still remains. From his bedraggled look and messed-up clothing, he's as far from this world as he can manage to be.

"Alright. Here you go. But I want your keys." the bartender concedes and hands him back another shot of tequila. The man opposite him takes the shot glass and knocks back the content, letting the alcohol burn down his throat. Once more, he slams the glass down on the counter.

"More." he croaks, his head lolling slightly.

"Keys." the bartender repeats firmly, taking the glass. For a moment, it seems as if the man is considering. His ice blue eyes are glaring at the bartender angrily, accusingly. Just when the bartender thinks the man has had enough, he reaches into his pocket and slams down a keyring in front of him.

_"More."_ he croaks again, even more hoarsely than before. Silently, the bartender hands him his shot and takes his keys from him.

Not everyone wants to be saved.

The man downs the drink in one go again, groaning softly. He wobbles a little in his seat. _Just a few more shots,_ the bartender muses idly. He only hopes the poor guy will get home safe tonight. As it is, he can only keep serving him spirits.

"Jethro."

The voice is soft, low, feminine. Filled with concern and pain. The silver-haired man doesn't flinch as a woman lays her hand on his shoulder. She's dressed simply, yet her red hair still makes her stand out. "Spirits?" she asks, even more softly. The man, or 'Jethro', as she calls him, doesn't reply. Instead, he downs yet another glass, hanging his head.

The woman sighs heavily and pulls a stool next to him, joining him at the bar. The bartender looks at her uncertainly, hoping that she's not there to join him. Her demeanor is that of a woman out to comfort a friend, or a lover. He can tell. He's seen countless women waste away in the accursed drink. Still, he has to ask the question.

"What'll it be?" The woman eyes the glass her companion is drinking out of, then sighs again.

"Just one shot for me, please."

* * *

><p>She's waiting for him in the morning when he wakes up, ready with strong coffee and an understanding pat on the back. He only grunts in reply, staring through half-closed eyelids into his cup. His head really does feel terrible. She makes no move to break the silence hanging between them. Some things don't need to be said. Her clothes are plain and her hair is unkempt. His is standing up in every direction, heavy shadows under his eyes.<p>

They both look a mess.

Eventually, the woman reaches her hand out to touch his forearm gently. "Jethro..." she tries to start, but is interrupted by the doorbell. With a sigh, she stops a little closer to catch his eye. His head is bowed, his eyes averted. Biting her lip, she withdraws and goes to the door to answer. What she meets has her blinking in incomprehension for a moment.

Three children are standing on his doorstep, smiling up at her and holding triangles. At the gate, she can just make out their mother.

"May we sing the carols?" a little, gap-toothed girl asks. Numbly, the red-headed woman nods. Smiling up at her, the three children start to sing in happy, exuberant voices. Not shutting the door, the woman retreats inside to find her purse. As she takes out a twenty dollar note, she notices the man has sat up a little, listening. Still silent, she returns to the door and hands the money to the oldest child, who thanks her with a grin. The woman doesn't close the door as they walk down the path, drinking in the sight of their happiness. Once they're out of his yard, she closes the door softly, as if afraid to ruin the new atmosphere the carolers had brought. The man is still sitting, more alert, now looking up at her. Though his eyes are still filled with pain and misery – aren't hers the same, after all? - his gaze is softer, sadder. _Her_ gaze is softer.

Both had forgotten it was Christmas.

* * *

><p>"We have to eat something." she ventures after a long, silent pause. The two are now sitting on his sofa, staring into space with their bodies leaned close to each other. Even after considering her words for half an hour, they sound alien, foreign to the quiet that surrounds them. Quiet like the grave. She receives but a grunt in reply, which she takes as an affirmative. There's not much more she can do. As they are, she has to take leaps in interpreting his silences. Because, if she doesn't pick them up, she doesn't know who will.<p>

She tries to order from their favorite Chinese place, but of course it's closed for the holidays. She tries the Mexican restaurant they also prefer, clutching at a faint hope. A fool's hope, as it turns out. Again, closed for the holidays. As she puts the phone down, she idly observes that they must be the only home without any Christmas dinner. The only home without a tree, without presents, without smiles and laughter.

It's funny, she concludes numbly as she takes her seat on the sofa again, how easily Christmas can be spoiled. All it took to ruin the most perfect Christmas was one bomb, one madman and four people they loved.

* * *

><p>"Jethro? I'm back." she says as she pulls her keys out of the lock, peering into the dark hallways. After several more hours, she had finally given in and gotten up to buy them both some dinner. It took an hour of driving, but she had at last found a place open. The food is nothing fancy – they eat better in hospital. Still, it is food, and something is better than nothing. Desperately, she clutches at any little straw still remaining to her to make this day a little less depressing, a little less dark.<p>

It's Christmas, for goodness' sake!

Getting no reply, she heads further in, the bag of food in her hand; fried rice and soy sauce. She has also managed to find a small kiosk still open. A small box of Twinkies has to suffice for their Christmas cake. If they want a candle, they can use a lit match – she knows there won't be a candle small enough for _this_ Christmas log.

She walks further into his house, growing more and more concerned when she doesn't find him. The house is cold, silent. She didn't want to leave him alone, and now she feels as if her heart is beating hard against her ribs. She is sprinting across the living room to the ajar door that leads to his basement, taking the stairs two at a time.

Down in his basement, she skids to an abrupt stop. He is sitting in his chair, body resting limply against the wood. Vaguely, the thought reaches her that it's the first time she's seen him in his marine uniform. Even more irrelevant, it hits her that the khaki color suits him. It matches well with the rifle at his feet.

She drops her bags of makeshift cheer. She can only stand there, staring blankly at his prone form. She can say nothing.

After all, it's only fair.

Just one more shot for her, just one more shot for him.


	18. The Serenity of Silence MissJayne

**Title:** The Serenity of Silence

**Author: **MissJayne

**For: **MyOwnWorstCritic

**Rating:** K+

Looking back, neither of them were entirely sure why or how they had ended up spending their first Christmas Day back together in DC as they had.

Soft gentle snowflakes had been falling for hours from the heavens when he showed up on the doorstep of his own angel. She had smiled in understanding, knowing he did not like to celebrate this season due to the memories of those he had loved and lost. But he had appeared, which warmed her more than any crackling fire.

He had kissed her gently, proving without words how much he loved her. She had been the one to break it off; not willingly, but concerned for his health if he continued to stand in her doorway and freeze. Pulling him into her townhouse with a loving smile, she had kissed him again, this kiss lasting much longer.

When they finally moved apart, he had brushed a kiss to the top of her head before moving to her coat closet and starting to raid it. She had watched with a twinkle in her eye, amused by his actions and his inability to express himself using words. But she knew him too well to be upset or mad, and settled for observing his familiarity with her abode and trying to work out what he was up to this time.

To her surprise, when he straightened up and showed her what he had found, it was only a warm coat, a blue scarf she'd had since childhood and a pair of fluffy pink earmuffs that had randomly appeared in her house some years ago. One day she was going to find the time to investigate where they had come from.

She had been expecting something more esoteric for him to not simply tell her to put warm outer clothing on, but decided not to question it. After all, he was a riddle wrapped in a mystery, inside an enigma

He had bundled her into his car, and they had listened to cheery Christmas songs on the radio before he rolled his eyes and flicked the sound off with a well-practiced move. She laughed to herself, allowing him to concentrate on the icy roads and knowing he would let her turn the music back on if she wished to listen to it. After about thirty minutes of driving on deserted streets, he pulled over in what appeared to be the middle of nowhere.

When she stepped out of the car, a soft smile graced her lips. He had driven her to a tiny lake, completed iced over. The banks were covered with virgin snow and the branches of nearby trees were laden with white fluff. While she stared in wonder at the sight, he reached into the backseat to hand her a pair of ice skates.

It took her a moment to recognize them. Bright pink with neon green laces; a certain female friend had bought them as a gift several Christmases ago but she had been working too hard to try them out. Apparently he had been snooping through her house and come across them. She switched her snow boots for the skates with delicate fingers, lacing them up with care, only taking her eyes away from her job to watch as his confident fingers laced up another pair of skates that could only have come from their resident Goth – yellow with black skulls and purple laces. Somehow the combination suited him.

He reached for her hand and grasped it firmly, amused by the little squeal of laughter that escaped her lips as he pulled her onto the ice. White snowflakes glistened in her red hair as they moved together.

At first, they skated separately, each wanting to find their own feet on the ice, trying to stay upright and acting like young children. She danced in ever-smaller circles, whirling around and around, laughing as her skates slid across the ice. She giggled and ignored her increasing dizziness, enjoying herself far too much to pause for such a silly reason.

He prowled around the edge of the lake, eyes initially on the treeline, on guard for any intruders to their little sanctuary. Old habits are hard to break, and as paranoid as he knew he was being, he had to be sure. So he observed and waited until he was eventually satisfied of her safety.

He continued prowling, not altering his pattern as he switched the center of his attention to the redhead. As she swirled and dipped and attempted to remain upright despite her dizziness, he watched her from the corner of his eye. She looked so young and childlike when she giggled and laughed to herself. He preferred to skulk, unsure whether her behavior would change when she realized she was being observed.

He admired her as she pirouetted, her auburn tresses layered with snowflakes and dancing in the icy air. Her peels of mirth lifted his heart right up until the moment she slipped over.

She landed with a loud thud on the ice, her joyful laughter stopping flat. He raced over, all pretense of not spying on her long over. He was skating so urgently that he almost went head over heels himself. A quick glance over her (making sure to take in _all_ of her, of course) made him confident she wasn't about to die in the next minute, but he couldn't be sure of any potential breaks.

She held out a hand to indicate she felt reasonably okay and he pulled her up, skating slowly back to the car with her and holding her close the entire time as though afraid she would fall through a crack in the ice at any moment. He sat her in the front passenger seat and gave her a more thorough going-over, remembering everything he had been taught in the Marines.

His actions had initially amused her but now they were starting to border on overprotective. She was fairly sure she hadn't broken anything; her ankle ached where she'd gone over on it, but she would guess twist more than sprain. Simple rest would solve it. Unfortunately, he was acting like an overprotective mother hen whose only chick had almost been savaged by a wolf. She was wrapped in a blanket he had pulled out the trunk, a blanket she suspected was big enough to cover his entire boat and made her feel silly. He had checked her for concussion three times, even though her head had been nowhere near the ice. There was something called cute, but this was verging on insanity.

It was only when he looked on the verge of calling Ducky to come out and be on hand in case any emergency medical assistance was required that she crooked a finger to get his attention. He came obediently, looking as though he thought she was about to admit she was dying. She smirked before placing a kiss on his lips.

He kissed her back and for a few minutes, under the stars, they were the only two people in the world.


	19. Anything You Can Do Aunt Kitty

**Title: **Anything You Can Do, I Can Do Better (the Sequel)

**Author: **Aunt Kitty

**For:** MissJayne

**Rating:** K+

_Early in December…_

"Señor Gibbs! _Feliz Navidad_!"

"And Merry Christmas to you, too, Noemi."

Gibbs was sure Jenny's housekeeper wasn't looking on this as work. To the heartbreak of her second-generation domestic, Señora Shepard almost never entertained. Noemi's mother had been the Shepard's housekeeper from her late teens on; Noemi had helped out at dozens of parties given by Jenny's parents and had stepped into the role of housekeeper when her mother retired. Tonight was the first "party" Jenny had thrown in years.

Not that it was a real "party" party. Jenny looked upon her home as a refuge from the parties, dinners and functions she was forced to attend as part of her job. Tonight there would be no cocktails, no glittering gowns—just Gibbs and his team (Ducky, Abby and Jimmy Palmer were invited as well, of course)… and boxes and boxes (and more boxes) of toys and gifts to be wrapped for the Toys For Tots campaign. But it gave Noemi a chance to pull out serving platters that were older than most of his team members, stack them high with crudités, hors d'oeuvres and nibbles, drag in pots of homemade tamales and serve up roasted chicken that was the best thing north of the Mexican border. When enlisting aid for the wrap-a-thon, Jenny had let it be known there would be _plenty_ of food—thus, _plenty_ of leftovers. Just like leaving Ducky's after Thanksgiving or Christmas, it was expected that each person would depart with at least two or three days' worth of food.

"Señor Gibbs—my son, Alberto, his friend, Nick." It came out sounding like 'neek.' "They have Nick's father's truck, they will help take all the toys to the center, no?"

"Yes. Glad for the help, boys," he said, shaking hands with them in turn. Jenny had cautioned them that Nick, Alberto's best friend from church, had been a mainstreamed special education student, with brain damage that occurred in early childhood with his birth family. Earnest and hardworking, able to hold down a job and even drive, but not so quick to catch the subtle nuances in conversation.

"Knock-knock!" Nick said with a big grin.

"Who's there?" Gibbs answered with a good-natured laugh.

"Cash!"

"Cash who?"

"I didn't realize you were some kind of a nut!" Nick laughed uproariously and Gibbs shook his head, chuckling. "Knock-knock!"

_What have I started?_ "Who's there?"

"Cash!"

_Hope he knows more than one joke._ "Cash who?"

"Cash me if you can! Knock-knock!"

"Last one, Nick. I have to get to work. Who's there?"

"Agnes!"

"Agnes who?"

"Agnes and Topeka and the Santa Fe!" Nick laughed roundly then frowned. "I don't get it."

"I'll explain it later."

"Oka-doka." He turned to Alberto and mimed chomping on a cigar. "I love it when a plan comes together!"

"_A-Team_. I remember that show." Gibbs gave Nick a thumbs-up and left the foyer. (Behind him, Nick was quoting another show to Alberto and following it up with yet another joke. In addition to apparently knowing at least a hundred knock-knock jokes by heart he could quote chunks of dialogue from classic detective and adventure shows without missing a word or inflection. A definite talent. Not a very bankable one, but a talent, nonetheless.)

Gibbs surveyed the dining table that was probably bending in the middle under the tablecloth. Leftovers? Make that five or six days of leftovers. Each. Noemi already had enough food out to feed fifty people, and he could smell other things still cooking in the kitchen. This could probably carry them all up to Christmas dinner at Ducky's, no sweat. Free food is good food; as he passed the table, he caught a whiff of some sort of potato casserole and barely managed to not drool—in this case, Noemi being an out-of-this-world cook, free food was _fantastic_ food. He detoured to the living room, prepared to earn his plate.

DiNozzo, in the temporary absence of their fearless leader, had appointed himself chief of the project and was deep in a minor argument already. "All I'm saying is, it would be _more organized_—"

"And, like, totally not fun," Abby said. "Jeez, Tony. 'All the toys for five-year-old girls in the snowman paper. All the toys for five-year-old boys in the reindeer paper,'" she mimicked. "How do you define 'regimented?'"

"But if the presents get mixed up, what then? You think a twelve-year-old kid is gonna want a Tickle Me Elmo?"

"Post-its, courtesy Staff Sergeant McMichaels." Jenny held up a stack of colorful 3x3 squares. "Write down the age and gender from the sort box, and what the package is. No package goes back in the box without a post-it. That way we are organized—but not regimented. Besides, you know darn well as you get to the end of the roll of paper, the present you have left won't fit the paper you have."

"True enough," Ziva agreed.

"We used to run out of paper all the time, I got gifts wrapped in the Sunday funnies plenty of times," Abby said, tearing off the cellophane wrap on roll after roll of paper.

"You, too?" McGee said, doing the same to rolls of ribbon. "That's my sister's favorite wrapping paper, especially when I wasn't living at home. She got to see different comics that way."

They all fell into their task with gusto, wrapping and ribboning and entertaining each other with tales of Christmas past, favorite gifts, party blunders and so forth, all while ducking in and out of the dining room for fresh plates of food.

Noemi even got into the swing of things; while replenishing a rice and vegetable casserole she scolded Gibbs for his prank the prior Christmas. "Me? Pull a prank on Madame Director?" he said in shocked accents. "I would _never_ do something like that."

"Yeah, right," Jenny shot back. "Who else would leave _twenty-two_ chickens on my porch?"

Ducky looked at Gibbs, baffled. "Why on earth would you leave twenty-two—" He stopped in mid-sentence. "Oh. Oh, _no,_" he laughed. "You didn't." Gibbs just looked at him innocently. "You _did!_"

The others exchanged puzzled looks. "Did _what?_" Jimmy finally asked.

"The first day of Christmas my true love gave to me a partridge in a pear tree," Ducky recited. "The _second_ day of Christmas my true love gave to me two French hens—_and_ a partridge in a pear tree. By the twelfth day that would be—"

"Twenty-two French hens," McGee supplied.

"Where the heck did you stash a dozen pear trees?" DiNozzo asked. "Not to mention all those milking maids and dancing ladies."

"And lords a-leaping," Ziva said with a sly smile.

"Fortunately, it wasn't always an exact replica. The first tree _was_ a little pear tree—the poor thing was fairly well naked at this time of year, so it had a little ornament tied to it: a golden pear." Jenny grinned. "Along with a 45—"

"A handgun?" Ziva gasped. But it was a delighted gasp.

"No—a record. Record album? Like a CD? Only this was a 'single.'" (Suddenly Jenny felt old.) "The song was "I Think I Love You" by… The _Partridge_ Family."

The entire room groaned.

"That wasn't the worst. The last one was a small Christmas tree, totally stripped of needles—"

"Twelve days after Christmas, they _all_ look like that," Gibbs interjected.

"—and sporting a single double-aught shell—"

McGee almost whimpered. "A _cartridge_ in a _bare_ _tree_."

Abby fell over onto her side, pounding the carpet and laughing. Ducky shook his head and said, "Jethro, Jethro, Jethro…" while Ziva looked at DiNozzo smugly and said, "Even _I_ get that."

Ducky suddenly stopped, frowning. "That isn't right."

"You're telling me?" Jenny laughed.

"No, no—" He muttered under his breath. "Three," he suddenly said. He pointed to Gibbs. "_Three_ French hens, _two_ turtle doves—Jethro, you got it _wrong_."

"Nah," Gibbs said with a dismissive wave.

The others were nodding and mumbling lyrics as Ducky had.

Abby gave him an unhappy look. "Ducky's right, Gibbs." (She hated to see him proven wrong in anything, even just song lyrics.) "_The first day after Christmas, my true love and I had a fight_," she sang.

Everyone stopped what he or she was doing. And stared. Oblivious, she continued to sing:

"_And so I chopped the pear tree down and burned it just for spite!  
><em>_Then with a single cartridge,  
><em>_I shot that blasted partridge,  
><em>_My true love, my true love, my true love gave to me.  
><em>_The second day after Christmas, I pulled on some old rubber gloves,  
><em>_And very gently wrung the necks of both the turtle doves,  
><em>_My true love, my true love, my true love gave to me.  
><em>_The third day after Christmas, my mother caught the croup.  
><em>_I had to use the three French hens to make some chicken soup_—"

"Yeah, Ducky's right, three French hens," she said casually, going back to drawing the sharp edge of her scissors across ribbon to make curly-q strings.

"That's a… _most_ _unusual_ version of the song, my dear," Ducky said.

"I had a _most_ _unusual_ choir director in junior high."

"Guess it's a good thing the boss screwed up," DiNozzo said. "Eleven times two is twenty-two—three times ten is thirty. That's 8 short on the Kentucky Fried Chicken list."

"I donated most of them to a women's shelter—and still ate chicken for a month," Jenny said.

"Yeah, will did Señora Shepard tell you what she and her little elves did _first?_" Gibbs asked Noemi. When she shook her head, he said, "They staged a murder scene… in my front yard."

Noemi's eyes widened and she took a step back. "You—you _kill_ someone, Señora?" she asked tremulously.

"No, no," Jenny quickly reassured her. "It was a _pretend_ crime scene. They were all _snowmen_. It was just staged. Make believe."

Noemi still looked uncertain; like Nick, she lost parts of conversation, but for a different reason.

"Mama—" Alberto rattled off a few sentences in Spanish and Noemi's face cleared—slightly. Both she and Alberto still looked a little confused.

Jenny held up a finger. "Hold on just a moment." She crossed the hall to her office area, dug around in the drawers for a moment and then came back with an envelope of photographs. "Here we go."

"You took pictures?" Gibbs laughed.

She gave him an innocent look. "Jethro. You _always_ take pictures at a crime scene."

He laughed again; true. Everyone crowded around Jenny as she pulled out picture after picture and sent it around the circle with comments.

"I loved the meat thermometer. Perfect touch." (Gibbs.) "Well, it was grossly inaccurate anymore, might as well get a last use before tossing it in the bin." (Ducky.) "Man, those braids took forever. But they turned out great." (Tim, with Abby looking quite smug.) "Yeah, I was thinking we'd have to frost Abby with snow and leave her buried to get it to look right." (Tony, with a punch on the shoulder from Abby.) "You look like someone just yelled 'freeze!'" (Alberto, looking over Jimmy's shoulder.) "Close. We were rolling out the crime scene tape and an upstairs light came on. Deer in headlights." (Ziva, looking pleased as punch to get 'deer in headlights' straight.) "Reindeer?" (Abby.)

With additional clarifying comments from her son, Noemi got the drift—and thought it was funny as heck.

"It was," Gibbs agreed. "One of the best gifts I've ever received."

"And he even solved the mystery," Abby said.

"_Even?_" Gibbs repeated, flicking an eyebrow up.

"Also?" she quickly substituted. "And the whole thing was Director Shepard's idea. What?" Abby said when Tony gave her a "shhh!" look. "It's not like he didn't know."

"And the statute of limitations has long passed," Jenny laughed. "But Christmas should be fun, right?" Nick, sitting next to her and studying the photographs intently, nodded enthusiastically. "I have to admit—_I_ hadn't had that much fun in ages."

"Not even trying to find homes for forty-two swimming swans?" Ducky teased.

"Thank heavens they were stuffed, ornaments, earrings—two tickets to _Swan Lake_…"

"I just figured you'd be in violation of some sort of animal control law," Gibbs said with a shrug. And a smirk.

"I was worried you'd get revenge for that little stunt—what was it you said, Ducky, ah, 'I don't think it will be in the spirit of revenge, more 'one upmanship.' He will want to do it up right.' I'm just glad you went with one-upmanship and not revenge. And this didn't turn into some sort of yearly contest."

Gibbs just smiled—a very small, kind of secretive smile that made her shoulders twitch just a hair. And he changed the subject. "Okay, if we're going to get this done in time…"

The crew plowed back into work with renewed vigor (and replenished foodstuffs), the piles of wrapped and tagged gifts growing higher and higher. As each box was filled back up, Alberto and Nick carefully carried it out to the truck, locking it in the camper shell. (The brim-full boxes had been delivered a few days prior, along with paper and ribbons, all carried in by a quartet of Marines in dress blues. Noemi was _very_ glad to have been at work that day; the foursome was quite easy on the eyes. She was a little sad when Jenny told her that the NCIS crew would be taking the gifts back after they were wrapped, that the Marines weren't going to do the pickup. When Jenny gave her a teasing scold for ogling young men behind her husband's back, Noemi loftily told her, "Looking is no sin. For those men—_not_ look is a sin." Jenny had directed them as to where to place the boxes and was glad she had been home, too. Noemi was right. The gentlemen were worth a second look. (Third and fourth for one of them in particular.))

Gibbs looked at a boxed doll and frowned. "Y'know, I don't remember Barbie looking so… uh…"

"That's not Barbie," Jenny said. "That's a 'Bratz' doll."

"Name fits," he muttered. "She looks like she should charge by the hour." He grabbed a piece of paper and quickly wrapped the box.

Jenny began to giggle. "Did you choose that paper on purpose?"

"Yep," he said with a grim smile.

Abby looked over, having missed what Gibbs was wrapping. "What's wrong with _HO HO HO_?"

"Nothing," Jenny said, trying to suppress her smile as she peeled off the backing to a bow and stuck it in the middle of the box. "Nothing at all."

Nick stood near the group, waiting for the next box to be loaded. "Take me to my brother or I'll do something Alfred Hitchcock never dreamed of." Yet another TV quote.

Brothers. Nick had found one in DiNozzo. Tony made a frown as he whipped ribbon around a box. "Give me a clue."

Nick looked baffled. "Clue?" He probably understood the word when used in one of the TV shows but in casual conversation it got zero recognition.

"Wait, wait—private eyes?" DiNozzo asked. Nick nodded. "Brothers?" He nodded again. DiNozzo snapped his fingers. "_Simon and Simon!_"

Nick beamed. "A killer caught by a lousy television show and a rotten commercial. There's something poetic about that," he quoted.

DiNozzo nodded, impressed. "_Remington Steele_. The accent was dead on."

"I'm not used to being refused." Nick cocked his head and conjured up a second voice. "Well, they do say a new experience broadens the mind."

DiNozzo turned aside slightly. "Okay, the fact that he sounds more like Angela Lansbury as Jessica Fletcher than Angela Lansbury sounded like as Jessica Fletcher… is just a little creepy," he whispered to McGee. "_Murder, She Wrote?_" he said in a more normal voice to Nick.

Nick grinned and bounced up and down on the balls of his feet. "You're good, Very Special Agent DiNozzo!"

Gibbs snorted faintly; _very_ special agent, indeed.

"Jack, having you as a friend is a little bit like owning a pet disease."

DiNozzo gave Nick a blank look; around him, Ziva, McGee and Abby gave various shrugs and headshakes. Ducky added a, "Sorry, dear boy," and Jimmy a, "Clueless," to their negative reactions. "Clue?" DiNozzo asked. Nick's brows knit. "Private eye?" Nick shook his head. "Cop?" Another head shake. "CSI?" No. "Lawyer?" DiNozzo asked with a slight look of distaste (and a slight note of desperation). "Okay, I give."

"_MacGyver!_ He's my favorite!"

DiNozzo nodded. "Oh, yeah. The dude with the duct tape. Me, I'm more of a _Magnum, PI_ guy."

Nick drew himself up sharply. "Zeus! Apollo!"

McGee grinned as he concentrated on pulling the oddly-sized scrap of wrapping paper _just tight enough_ to cover the Harry Potter book in front of him. "He's better than you are, Tony."

Nick looked at Tony intently. "Time has little to do with infinity and jelly donuts."

For a moment Tony's goofiness dropped away. "You're right, Nick." He quickly regrouped. "So, let's get this done. Cop Shop starts donuts for the morning at midnight. My treat!"

"Yea!" Abby cheered.

Ducky looked at her in mild horror. "How can you even think of donuts after all we've eaten so far?"

"Takes lots of kilojoules to keep this engine running."

"And it runs so well," he murmured. Gibbs bit back a smile; operating under a variant of _don't ask/don't tell_, he had more than a sneaking suspicion that Abby and Ducky were not just colleagues.

By midnight they were done. A relatively quick caravan to the D.C. center and they all met back at The Cop Shop—even the boys. Even _Gibbs_. "DiNozzo's picking up the tab? Why not."

Over very fresh donuts and assorted beverages, the talk again turned to favorite gifts over the years.

"—my parents felt the house shake, we didn't see Bubba for four days—and I blew a hole in my wall—" Abby rolled her eyes. And grinned.

"Five-year-old with a wood-burning kit. No supervision. Bad mix." Gibbs took a sip of his coffee. "It was still a great present."

"Ten… speed… bike." Tony looked wistful. Then he laughed. "Had to take it back and exchange it, Dad didn't know how short a seven-year-old was."

"Suzy Homemaker," Jenny sighed. Only Gibbs nodded. "Ah, come on. Bad enough to explain record albums…!"

"I thought Suzy Homemaker was, like, Martha Stewart's predecessor," Abby said with a frown.

Ducky laughed. "Suzy Homemaker," he said, "was a collection of toys for young girls from the sixties. Household items such as a stove, blender, dishwasher—they all worked and gave the little girls a chance to emulate mother."

Abby snorted faintly. "Sexist much?"

DiNozzo grinned. "_The Good Wife's Guide. Ten Steps to Pleasing Your Husband_."

Jenny gave him an appalled look. "Agent DiNozzo!"

"Case evidence. Before your tenure," Gibbs said. He gave her a placating smile. "Let it ride."

Abby was still giving Ducky an odd look. "How do _you_ know so much about Suzy Homemaker?"

He laughed. "I lived in a charming apartment complex where there were a number of families with small children. Several young ladies treated me to little cookies and cakes—even chocolate malteds," he said in an impressed tone.

"Don't tell me. You were everybody's favorite Uncle Ducky?" she said with a smile and a twinkle in her eye.

"I was the favorite babysitter, if nothing else." He cocked his head. "But aren't those—ah—before your time?" he said delicately to Jenny.

"Only by a few years—but thank you. Every Christmas, when I was small, we'd visit my Aunt Rose and Uncle Mason and my cousins in Connecticut. I was always worried that Santa wouldn't find us—but he always did. They had—" She counted in her head for a moment. "Six children. I was smack in the middle, and the three above me were all girls. _They_ had all the Suzy Homemaker toys—_almost all_ of them, and I _loved_ to play with them," she said with a passion that made the others laugh. "Oh, it was so much fun! I loved baking Christmas cookies in that thing—I think it held, what, six at a time?" she said with a small laugh, shaking her head.

"No chocolate malteds?" Ducky teased.

"You better believe it," she shot back. "Best in the state."

"I hate to break this up," Ziva said, glancing at her watch, "but—"

"Good heavens, is it after three? The night nurse will think I've fled the state."

"This was a blast." Abby leaned over and gave Jenny a hug. "I love wrapping presents!"

"I told them if they needed our help again closer toward Christmas to just give a call."

"You bet!" Abby grinned and slipped her hand through Ducky's elbow. "C'm'on, Duckster."

"Abigail's hearse is in the shop," Ducky explained in answer to Gibbs' slightly raised eyebrow.

"Ah." After they others had disappeared Gibbs shook his head slightly. "Got a feeling the night nurse is going to be the early morning nurse, too," he murmured, finishing the last of his coffee.

Jenny laughed. "Ya think?" she said, mimicking him.

"No…" He rose, tossed his cup in the trash and held her chair as she stood. "Dead sure, actually."

* * *

><p><em>A week before Christmas…<em>

Revenge is a dish best served cold.

Winters in D.C. can be _damned_ cold.

Jenny stopped halfway down her steps and stared at the edge of the property. "Jethro," she groaned faintly.

She had worried—only a little, but worried nevertheless—when they planted a field of snowmen in his front yard. How would he react? Laugh? Get pissed? (Have them committed?) No… he had gotten revenge—or, as Ducky said, 'one-upmanship.'

She _thought_ he had evened the score.

Apparently, she was wrong.

It hadn't been enough to bury her in literal, figurative and outright weird interpretations of the gifts from _The Twelve Days of Christmas_ from December 25 through January 5. And apparently this _was_ turning into a "can you top this?" contest. (Why else would she have a small, off-kilter traditional three-ball snowman in the front of her yard, dressed not in the traditional stovetop hat, corncob pipe, carrot and coal pieces but in un-traditional battered Navy fatigue jacket and sailor's cap?) _Cute, Gibbs, cute._

As she walked down the path to admire his handiwork, her next-door neighbor, Mrs. Rayburn, walked up from behind, her nasty little poodle with her. "Good morning, Miss Shepard."

"Mrs. Rayburn." The woman had been there since before Jenny's parents had bought the property (read: forever). She had always looked like she was 1,000 years old and had been widowed since the war (_not_ Vietnam, _not_ Korea, _not_ _even_ WW II—she was a WW _I_ bride _and_ widow—and Jenny was willing to bet she's been that old and wrinkled when she married). (Jenny had spent her childhood thinking Mrs. Rayburn was a _Civil War_ bride and widow… and there were still some days she wasn't sure that wasn't the truth. The woman was older than Mrs. Mallard. Older than _dirt_.) "Good walk with Pierre?" Early morning and late afternoon walks gave her a chance to take care of Pierre's business—and get the scoop on any gossip.

"Chilly." She gave the snowman a slightly affronted look. "What an… _interesting_… snowman," she said politely.

"A—friend from work. He has an… _odd_… sense of humor," Jenny said drily.

"Ah." From her expression, she didn't understand. "Pierre!" she said sharply.

The snarky little dog had broken free and run over to the snowman, barking furiously. "Don't worry, Pierre," Jenny said with a laugh. "He won't hurt you." (_Darn it_.) (She was no more a friend of this Pierre than she had been of any of his predecessors. Mrs. Rayburn had a knack for finding temperamental poodles—and every one she named Pierre.)

Pierre wasn't buying it. He was growling and snapping and the hackles on the back of his neck were up.

Jenny's were starting to rise, too.

Pierre did the forward and back pounce that dogs do when playing—but those weren't playful noises. On a lunge forward he broke through the bottom ball of snow and started to dig.

"Pierre!" This time Mrs. Rayburn added a couple of sharp handclaps to her command.

Pierre ignored her. He dug at the base for dear life like the mother lode of bones was in there. He found something and started tugging.

Gibbs' snowman wasn't very sturdily built. It started to topple, snow breaking away and falling in clumps revealing—

"A m-mannequin?" Mrs. Rayburn stammered.

_Nice touch, Gibbs. Creepy, but nice. Uh… uh-oh…_ Jenny hesitated. She didn't want to scare her, but—

"But… Mannequins don't—_bleed!_"

Her last word segued into a shrill scream.

_Wow. For an old broad, she's got __**great**__ lungs._

* * *

><p>"Jeez, Jen, you thought I stuck a corpse in a snowman for a Christmas joke?"<p>

"Once we discovered it was snowman roulade, no, I didn't. Up 'til that point—darn right I thought it was you."

After ducking back into the house for a coat and boots (she had just been running out for the paper earlier), Jenny called the Yard—more specifically, called Gibbs—and stood watch over the body until they arrived.

"So much for your half a day off," he said. "Whatcha got, Duck?"

"Good heavens, Jethro. We need to get the poor fellow defrosted before anything else. Minor cranial trauma… he doesn't appear to have any other physical damage, but I suspect this man has missed a number of meals over the past few years and I'm willing to wager he didn't have a permanent home."

"So we have the body of a homeless Navy vet stuck in a snowman in my front yard. Why?"

"Boss?"

Jenny and Gibbs turned in unison. "Yeah, McGee."

"Got something."

They hurried over to the front steps. "Whatcha got?"

McGee pointed to the small white envelope leaning against the bottom railing. "A clue."

Before Gibbs could make a smartass comment, he saw that McGee was being totally accurate. The envelope was marked _**CLUE**_.

"You know, I'm really starting to wish you had done this," Jenny murmured. "I must have walked past that five times this morning."

"Blends in with the railing and the snow, Director. Unless you were looking down, you wouldn't have seen it."

"Body of a Navy vet planted on the property of the Director of NCIS. Coincidence?" Tony said with light sarcasm. "Don't open that!"

McGee stopped. "Tony. The envelope was left unsealed. I doubt it has anthrax or smallpox." Just the same, he slipped the envelope into an evidence bag, sealed and initialed it and handed it up to Gibbs.

White. Letter sized. Flat, nothing bumpy or bulky inside. "Looks like there's a card or letter in it."

"Guess it probably doesn't say 'happy holidays,' huh?" Jenny said with a weak smile.

"Kinda doubt it, Jen."

* * *

><p>"A <em>what?<em>"

"A corpse, Abby. Hidden in a snowman." Gibbs set the box of evidence on the table.

Abby wiggled her fingers. "Cool. Literally. Like, freezing cold kind of cool. What do we have in box number one?"

"Not a lot," he admitted. "Ducky'll be sending up the clothing. We have…"

"Wallet. Old, but high quality—which is why it made it so long." Abby turned the plastic bag over in her hands. "Thick. But I don't see any cash, not carrying a wad."

"Ducky thinks he was homeless."

Abby frowned and gave him a sad look. "Poor guy…" She set the wallet aside. "Cross on a chain. Sort of Celtic. Pretty. Kind of girly, but maybe it meant something to him?" Gibbs shrugged. "I think it's coral."

"Isn't that thing pink?"

"Very good, Gibbs," she teased. "Most people think of the salmony-orangeish color when you say coral and not that that's _wrong_ but it's incomplete. Coral—the reefs and growths—can be any col—"

"Abby…" he prompted gently. _No wonder she and Duck get along so well._

"What was in the envelope?" Jenny asked, entering the lab.

"Envelope?" Abby turned back to the box. "Envelope!" She grabbed the bag out of the evidence box, signed the next line on the chain of evidence, took it to her fume hood and put it into the containment box. "At least it doesn't say 'sealed with a kiss,'" she muttered. Slipping her hands into the gloves, she opened the evidence bag and slipped out the envelope. "Okay. Security envelope. Number ten size. 'Clue' looks like it was printed on a laminated tab… Lick-n-stick envelope but nobody licked it, probably no DNA there… Inside we have… an index card. Four-by-six. With…" She cocked her head. "Uh—right."

Gibbs and the Director moved closer, trying not to crowd her. "A diagram? Of what?" Gibbs asked.

"No clue." The card had a neat black line going up the left side about an inch from the edge, curving at the top and continuing across the top edge to the right-hand side. About an inch and a half from the left-hand black line was a parallel blue line running from the line across the top of the card straight down to the bottom edge; large black x's were framed against the bottom left edge, and the bottom right corner had a red quarter-circle pie slice covering it. "Check out the other side." She turned the card over.

"_Dear Bud_," Gibbs read.

"_If you're reading this note I guess I'm pushing up daisies. Well, at least I'm not paying taxes. There's something very special that I want you to have. You can pick it up at Mel's Storage, 1420 Minton before 10 a.m. today. _

_Love, Harry_."

From her bent-over position, Abby looked up at Gibbs then turned the other direction and looked up at Director Shepard. "Any ideas?"

"I don't know a Bud, I don't know a Harry, I've never heard of Mel's Storage…" Jenny said, shaking her head.

"Last line at the bottom_. Bud, Keep your eyes on the road and your hands on the wheel,_" Gibbs finished.

"This is old school. That note was typed, not printed. Some of the letters are worn, you can tell it was a typewriter. Find me the typewriter, I can match the print." Abby thought for a moment. "Maybe our Popsicle is Bud?" she suggested. "Or Harry, since he mentions pushing up daisies?"

"But if the note is for Bud, whoever he is, why leave it on _my_ porch? Why leave, for lack of another name, Harry stuck in a snowman on _my_ yard?"

"Prior owner?" Abby suggested, pulling her hands out of the gloves.

"Possibly, but my parents owned that house before I was born. If someone left Harry and the note for Bud, they're severely out of touch."

"More ways than one," Abby said with a crooked grin. She plopped onto her work chair and skidded to the computer. "Okay. Minton… Huh. There's no Minton in D.C." She cocked her head at the screen. "Nearest one is… West Virginia." She tapped a few more keys. "No Mel's Storage in D.C…. no Mel's Storage in West Virginia… not even a Mel's Diner," she joked.

"Diner?" Gibbs repeated.

"_Alice?_" Abby said. "God, Gibbs, didn't you watch _any_ TV in your life?" Abby said in mild exasperation at his headshake.

"As little as I could, Abs. That crap will rot your brain."

"Hey. Maybe… if they're trying to reach Bud who lived there before your parents moved in, maybe Mel's Storage is from back then, too?" she suggested.

"Good thought. I'll put that in McGee's 'in basket.' Let me know if you pull anything. There was no ID in the wallet, no credit cards, mostly just a bunch of papers and old pictures that were pretty much stuck together. Maybe family?"

"I'll check it out." As they left, Abby fluttered her fingers together and went back to the evidence box, saying, "Pictures, pictures, let's scan in some pictures…" in a happy sing-song voice.

"You haven't had any weird letters or calls or anything, have you?" Gibbs asked as they waited for the elevator.

"Nothing. Not even kids playing prank calls, which seems to go up during holiday breaks."

"They're behaving for Santa," he said, punching the button for the autopsy level.

Ducky was at his desk working on paperwork when they entered and didn't even look up. "When I have something, you will know, Jethro," he said mildly.

"Duck—"

He set his pen down and swiveled his chair toward them. "Director Shepard," he said politely, inclining his head slightly.

"The body—"

"Is in the cooler, Jethro. This isn't a frozen dinner you can pop in the microwave! The body must remain in the cooler at a strict thirty-eight degrees Fahrenheit and be allowed to _gently_ thaw. If you rush the process, the outside of the body will begin to decompose—while the inner organs are still frozen. Valuable evidence could be lost—probably _would_ be lost. You must be patient," he said.

"How long?" Gibbs said with a small sigh.

Ducky sighed as well. "Up to a week. But I have some good news—"

"I'll take it."

"We were able to get a clear fingerprint. Timothy has verified the gentleman is _not_ former military, and has emailed the print to Abby." He ducked his head slightly and looked at them over the tops of his glasses. "Of course, now that we know he is not a member of the family, so to speak, there is the option of turning the case over to local law enforcement…? No, I thought not. Not when the body appeared on the doorstep of our Director." He gave Jenny a sympathetic look.

"We need answers, Duck."

"And you shall have them, in due course." He gave Gibbs a mildly imploring look. "Just please allow the poor man to _thaw_."

As they waited for the elevator to return, Gibbs glanced at Jenny. "Don't suppose you want to grab some lunch?"

She looked faintly ill. "Pass."

"Didn't think so.

* * *

><p>Jenny peered cautiously out her door. No snowman that she could see… good. She opened the door a little wider and glanced down.<p>

**_CLUE_**

_Hoo-boy._

* * *

><p>"Another love note?" Abby asked.<p>

"Yep," Jenny said grimly. Knowing Gibbs was up at that hour of the morning, she had called him; he had stopped by, used her tweezers to put the envelope into an evidence bag ("You keep evidence bags in your car?" "Doesn't everyone?"), shared a cup of coffee with her and they had driven in separately (Gibbs following her car—just in case).

"O-o-o-ka-a-a-ay," Abby drew out. "No ugly surprises yesterday but just to be on the safe side…" She took the bag to her containment box and repeated her actions from the day before. "Same thing. Same envelope. Same label. Same card. Same lines on the back. Different message."

Gibbs looked over her shoulder. "_Our larcenous friend stepped out of the noose._

_Take him to robin; the chicken's a wild goose_." He stood up and looked from one woman to the other with an expression of mild disgust. "Okay, I'm sure this makes sense to someone out there. But, to me, this is gibberish."

"Jabberwocky," Abby said. "Gobbledygook." She pulled her hands out of the gloves and planted her fists on her hips. "This is just goofy. Okay. First message…" She walked over to her computer and pulled up the scans she'd made of the first card. "We have basically a farewell from someone named Harry to someone named Bud, telling him to pick up something special at Mel's Storage. Then he gives him a driving lesson. Now, with this one, we're talking about someone who's guilty of theft or conversion and apparently slipped through the system—and birds. A robin, a chicken and a wild goose. No. Sense. No sense at all."

"And the lines on the back." Jenny stood next to her, tipping her head this way and that to look at the black and blue lines from different angles. "A diagram of something… but what? A map? Electrical diagram?"

"It looks… _almost_… familiar," Gibbs said slowly. "But I can't nail it."

Abby sighed. "Zip on the fingerprint. Still working on getting all those photographs apart, they must have been mashed in that wallet for years. I'm about halfway through the wad, it's getting a little easier as I get deeper. So little to work with… so few results." She brightened. "Oh! I did get a hit off the necklace!"

"Good job, Abs."

"Not really," she admitted. "Came from Hawaii, an artist, a woman named Apikalia Ho'opi'I—Apikalia is, interestingly enough, Hawaiian for Abigail, I'm thinking of changing my name to getting back on topic, Gibbs, " she switched at a look from Gibbs. "She has a little jewelry business called Nani Lako Kula, which means 'pretty jewelry,' had it for the past thirty-plus years, her grandson just put an archive section on the website he made for her, all the stuff she _used_ to make, this cross is something she made when she was first starting out, from about 1974 to 1977, she changed the design in '77. She figures she sold three or four hundred during those years. Tourist season. She said she _might_ have sales records going back that far… but it would take a while. She'd have to go through everything by hand. Probably thinks we're _lolo_," she said with a slightly smug smile.

"Crazy."

"Gibbs! You speak Hawaiian?"

"Nah, just sounds a lot like _loco_." He patted her shoulder. "I still say good job, Abs. This is a tough one."

The opinion in the squad room was the same. "Boss, there is nothing on Harry in the system," DiNozzo said. (Rather than call him 'the dead guy defrosting in autopsy,' they had all taken Jenny's lead and dubbed him 'Harry.') "No fingerprint on file in the Tri-State area DMVs, nothing in AFIS, nothing in any criminal or non-criminal database. It's like he doesn't exist. Of course, if he's homeless, like Ducky suggests, he's probably off the grid, so…"

"And there has never been a Mel's Storage in D.C., not going back to the early sixties, anyway," McGee chimed in as DiNozzo trailed off into silence. "Nothing for the Tri-State area. Tried West Virginia because of there being a Minton but it was a bust, too."

"Footage from the traffic cameras in the area shows nothing unusual, Gibbs," Ziva said, glancing up from her computer. "Witness statements from the neighborhood are virtually identical—everyone was asleep through the night, heard nothing, saw nothing. The only differing one is the neighbor, Mrs. Cora Rayburn—" She colored up faintly.

Next to Gibbs, Jenny laughed. "I don't have to read it. I can guess. We don't exactly have a warm and fuzzy relationship."

"Hey—" McGee looked up in astonishment. "Abby just IM'd me. She wants us all downstairs."

Jenny looked at him dubiously. "We just—"

"She knows who Harry is."

There was a polite scramble for the elevator.

* * *

><p>Abby stood in front of a black plasma screen, dancing in place and a slightly smug look on her face. She had even summoned Ducky, who was sitting patiently on a wheeled stool, watching her. "Okay. That wad of pictures in his wallet? It was, like, sandwiched together like it had been superglued. He had that stuff in there for <em>years<em>. The outside picture? It wasn't really a picture, I mean, it was a _picture_, just not a _photograph_, not on photo paper, it was a picture from the TV Guide, that hot detective from _Law and Order SVU, _so, I got that one to peel off, and underneath was one of the babes from _CSI_—"

"Abby," Jenny prompted gently.

"No, no, this is actually _important_. So. I go through, like, _years_ of pictures and cutouts. The pictures, they're, like, all the cop and procedural shows mostly. He's got episode clips of _old_ shows, you know, the blurbs they print, 'tonight's episode, Gibbs tracks down the identity of a body left in a snowman.' Sorry, Gibbs," she added quickly off his mild glare. "But I go deeper and deeper and I strike gold in the middle." She spun around and pushed the power button of the plasma screen. The image of a tattered, faded card appeared. "Writer's Guild of America, West membership card listing…" She pointed to the line. "Harry Jackson."

Ducky looked mildly amused. "So the poor man… _is_… Harry."

"Yep." She clicked on the arrow. "His driver's license was in the middle of all that mess. Harry Jackson, once from Studio City, California, this license expired in 1981. And, on the back of it…" She clicked the arrow again. "The only real photograph I found in the pile."

"Mr. and Mrs. Harry Jackson?" Jenny sighed. _Poor woman… we'll have to find her, let her know her husband was homeless—and now he's dead._

Abby nodded. "From the style of the wedding dress and the bridesmaids, we're looking at early-mid-seventies. I have searches going on right—"

There was a _ding_ from the computer in the other bay.

"Now." As she walked past the group, she glanced at Gibbs and muttered, "How does he _do_ that?" in tones of wonder. "Okay…" She settled herself on her stool, the others collecting behind her. "Now, we're not looking at an uncommon name like Zaphod Beeblebrox—"

Gibbs did a double take. "Like _what?_"

"Character from _The Hitchhiker's Guide to the Galaxy_," McGee and DiNozzo chorused. They looked at each other, startled.

"2005 film directed by Garth Jennings," DiNozzo quickly added.

"Based on the 1979 _novel_ by Douglas Adams," McGee said with a 'can you top this?' smile.

"Which was based on the 1978 BBC radio broadcast," Abby said with a sigh. Apparently, she _could_ top that. "Back to Mr. I-have-a-name-as-common-as-dirt Harry Jackson. Okay. Not him, not him, not him…" She dismissed several pop-ups. "Okay, IMDb—"

"Internet Movie Database, Boss." Another Greek chorus and mild looks of irritation between DiNozzo and McGee.

"He wrote a lot of TV shows… all in the 70s, the last were _Black Sheep Squadron, CHIPS, Emergency!_… Hey, it paid the rent," she said when DiNozzo snorted faintly. "But it explains the TV Guide clippings, they were probably shows he wrote." She clicked on the next screen. "Okay—oh," she gasped faintly. "_Oh_…." The second 'oh' was a long, drawn-out sigh. "How sad…" She glanced around her, then returned to the screen. "_April 18, 1979._ _A hostage standoff at a branch of Security Pacific Bank in Thousand Oaks resulted in the death of one of the gunmen and the accidental shooting of Tabitha Jackson. The wife of Harry Jackson, writer—_" She sighed again. "It goes on to list some of his credits… yadda, yadda… yadda." She gasped. "Oh—oh, jeez… she was _pregnant_."

"Poor soul," Ducky said gently. "She lost her life… and he lost his in response."

"They have her picture," Abby said, voice small. She pointed to the screen. "It's her necklace."

There was a long silence, then Gibbs patted her shoulder. "Good find, Abs." His voice was very low. "Very good." He looked up at his collection of field agents waiting with mildly uncertain looks on their faces. "We found who he was _there_. Let's find who he was _here_." He abruptly left the room.

"Gibbs is not a man to linger," Ducky said with an easy smile.

"True," Jenny said. But there had been more to it than that, she knew. "True," she repeated.

"Director?"

"Yes, Ducky?"

"At the rate that Mr. Jackson is—returning to a state with which Mr. Palmer and I can work," he said, foregoing 'thawing' or any other variant, "we should be able to start an autopsy tomorrow afternoon."

"Good."

* * *

><p>Jenny didn't cross paths again with Gibbs until late that afternoon as they almost collided in the lobby. "I wish you'd reconsider."<p>

It took her a moment to follow the conversation. Ah, yes. That morning, after finding the second note, he had suggested (repeatedly and loudly) that agents be posted at her property. She had—repeatedly and not so loudly—declined the suggestion. "Jethro, there is no threat. At worst, this is a prank—" They pushed open the doors and stepped outside. "—like someone leaving a family of stuffed geese in the front seat of my car with their honks activated _and no way to shut them off_," she said in a scathing tone.

He looked abashed for a moment. A nanosecond. "Yeah, but _I_ didn't leave a body on your lawn."

"Only because you didn't think of it," she shot back.

"But someone else _did_. I really think you should have someone posted. You _are_ the Director of NCIS—"

"Nice of you to notice."

"—and even though this hasn't been a threat up to this point, crazy people can escalate with no warning."

"Noted—along with the fact that I am an _armed_ Federal Agent. And a damned good shot."

He huffed a small puff of air. "Noted," he mimicked.

"If anything changes, you'll be the first to know. This is weird and creepy, yes, and more suited to Halloween than Christmas—but not a danger. Change of subject. Are you joining me for dinner?" When he hesitated, she added, "Noemi's making fajitas…"

"Oh, _hell,_ yes."

He beat her home by five minutes. "Some of us don't drive like bats out of hell," Jenny teased, walking out of her garage.

"For Noemi's fajitas? You're lucky the wheels stayed on the ground." Laughing, they tripped up the front walk—and he grabbed her arm. "Wait."

"What?" She followed his pointing finger. "Again?"

**_CLUE_**

"Oh, this has _got_ to stop!" Jenny said in irritation. While Gibbs trotted back to his car for an evidence bag, she opened the front door. "Noemi?" she called.

After a moment, she appeared from the kitchen. "Si, Señora?"

"Did anyone come to the house? Any deliveries, people knocking on the door?"

"No, Señora." She gave Jenny a mildly puzzled look. "Señor Gibbs, he no leave—things—again…?" She clearly remembered twelve _long_ days from the prior Christmas.

"No…" She gave the housekeeper a smile. "It's just a prank. Someone's been leaving silly letters on the porch, I thought you might have seen them." She didn't want to scare her to death.

Noemi shook her head. "I ask Alberto. The boys clean garage today."

"Thank you. I'd appreciate that." She hurried back out to the front doorstep.

Gibbs had taken tweezers and carefully removed the contents of the envelope. "Hasn't been any biohazard until now," he murmured. "And a total lack of fingerprints or DNA…"

"And Christmas is in a few days. It would be nice to have this stop before then."

"Okay… same weird lines on the back… and this makes just as much sense as the other notes: _CODY: Take your best friend's counsel and talk to the bird; __go to the habit over on Third. _Who the hell is _Cody_? And the typing is lined out on the bottom line. Someone wrote in—" He adjusted his glasses to no avail. "Can't read it. Pencil, faint—Abby's going to have to—"

Jenny peered over his shoulder. "F-A-T-N-O-R-G-R-E-G-S-F-L-U-K-E," she slowly spelled out. "I think."

"Fat nor Greg's fluke? That makes even less sense than the notes."

"Code?" she suggested hopefully.

"Who knows…" He looked up at her. "You said something about fajitas?"

* * *

><p>The next morning, mug of coffee in hand, Jenny stared down at the porch. "Another note. What a shocker…"<p>

* * *

><p>"Wow. What was it, a two-for-one sale?" Abby joked.<p>

Gibbs held up the evidence bag from the night before. "Last night."

Jenny held up the second one. "This morning."

"Already opened the one from last night—"

"Gibbs! You peeked!"

"It said, _CODY: Take your best friend's counsel and talk to the bird; go to the habit over on Third._ But the last line was lined out and someone wrote over it."

"Hah! I _knew_ you'd slip up eventually! Handwriting!"

"Printing. Not very clear, either."

Since they had ruled out any biohazard the night before, Abby opened the bag on the counter. "Again with those weird lines—I know what you mean, Gibbs, they're kind of familiar. Let's see… F-A-T-maybe an N? O? A? E? God, this guy must be a doctor, his printing sucks. Don't tell Ducky I said that," she added quickly.

"My lips are sealed," Jenny said. (Sealed and smirking.)

"I'll check it out more later. Okay, this morning's message… _BUD: I'd teach Cody myself, except that I died. Your lesson at center—four notes, side by side._ Hmm." She stared at the note for a long moment. "Four notes, side by side." She scanned up front and back images of the two cards then returned them to their evidence bags, initialed and resealed them. "Four… notes… side… by side…" She crossed her arms and stared at the computer screen. The four diagrams were on the bottom, the four cryptic notes on top. She stared silently at the screen.

Five minutes later, she was still staring at the screen and still silent. "Why don't we leave you to this puzzle," Jenny suggested tactfully, nodding toward the door. Abby never even noticed that she and Gibbs left.

Ducky wouldn't be able to start the autopsy until later that afternoon so there was no sense hanging around downstairs getting in his way (despite the bottle of single malt he kept stashed away) so they retired to their respective lairs: Jenny to her office, to oversee the official garbage that keeps a major investigative branch of the government running and Gibbs to the bullpen, to oversee the running of that major investigative branch of the government. His little slice of that pie, anyway.

Fortunately, it was a slow period. ("Nothing like the holidays to bring out love and peace and goodwill toward men," Ziva said, shaking her head. "I'm sure things will return to 'normal' after the New Year." Tony took a breath to point out that she had all but quoted a line from a favorite episode of _Remington__Steele_… and changed his mind.) But that holiday goodwill-caused slowdown meant they were able to focus their energies on this more than slightly bizarre Christmas case. A blowup of the third card filled the plasma screen; five pairs of eyes (Abby having abandoned her lab for the more congenial company upstairs) stared at nonsensical sentences and diagrams of nothing.

"F-A-T-N-O-R-G-R-E-G-S-F-L-U-K-E," McGee read slowly. "Okay… the printing is faint… but I _think_ that '_n_' is an '_h_.'"

Abby got up nose to plasma screen. "Yeah… yeah, Timmy, I think you're right. F-A-T-_H—_oh my gosh! That's not an 'o' that's—"

"An 'e.'" Gibbs nodded. "Father. Father Greg—"

Voices collided and overlapped. "That's not an 'f'—" Tim slammed a fist lightly on the desk. "'T!'" DiNozzo yelped. "Fr. Greg at St. Luke's and—" Abby jumped up and down and waved her arms like semaphores. "Over a dozen in the Tri-State area," Ziva said, tapping on her keyboard. "Methodist, Baptist, Episcopal, Lutheran, Catholic—"

"Start calling," Gibbs ordered. "Any church that has a Fr. Greg—"

"Pretty common name, Gibbs," Abby cautioned.

"Yeah, Zaphod Beeblebrox he ain't," Gibbs admitted and she gave him a delighted grin. "But how many of them will recognize the picture of Harry Jackson?"

"True." She planted her fists on her hips, swaying in figure eights as she stared at the screen. "We still don't know about the notes side by side thingy, though." She grabbed the remote and clicked the forward arrow, paging through views of the cards. "Crap!" The screen blurred for a moment, images overlapping. "Too fast on—"

"Wait!" DiNozzo jumped from his desk and joined her. "Make it do that again."

"I can't. It was a finger fumble—"

"Okay, okay, go back to showing the four cards with lines." Abby clicked through views. "Stop." He pointed to the first card in the line. "Can you move these around?"

"Not exactly. I can take a copy of the image, move it to another screen—"

"Do it, do it." He hovered over her as she tapped the keyboard. "Okay… now that one… okay, put it right below—"

"The lines match—how did I miss that!"

"Because we were looking at them _side by side_. We followed the instructions. Now put the third one _there_ and the fourth…" The former phys ed major stood up and grinned. "Boss… it's a hockey rink."

Gibbs laughed shortly and shook his head. "Staring us right in the face… but what the hell does a hockey rink have to do with any of this?"

"Um… it's cold? Like the snowman?" Abby suggested.

McGee held up his hand. "Yes. Yes, we'll be right over. Thank you." He hung up the phone. "Got it, Boss, second church on the list. Fr. Greg at St. Luke's Catholic Church in Alexandria. Recognized the name Harry Jackson right off the bat, he'd stop by at least once a week for a meal, helped out with the family shelter with the kids—homeless guy helping other homeless people. Hadn't seen him in almost two weeks." He gave a slightly abashed not-quite-a-smile. "Now he knows why."

"You. Ziva. Interview the priest." Gibbs jerked his head toward the elevator. "Phone work, DiNozzo," he added at the 'what about me, Boss?' look. "Ice rinks. Good catch. Start callin' 'em."

DiNozzo brought up the yellow pages website and picked up the receiver—and set it back down. "What should I ask them, Boss? 'Do these bizarre, cryptic notes mean anything to you, sir?'"

Gibbs gave him an irritated look. "I was thinking more along the lines of, 'Anybody know a Harry Jackson?'"

DiNozzo winced. "On it, Boss."

Gibbs shoved his chair back from his desk. "Headin' down to see Ducky."

Abby trailed after him. "So… we know who Harry Jackson _was_, back in California… Ziva and Timmy are going to find out who he was _here_… But why would someone plant his body in a snowman and put it on Director Shepard's front yard?"

"Hoping the priest has something on that." He punched the button for the autopsy level and rolled his eyes. "Jeez, that sounds like some stupid movie Tony would quote."

Abby brightened. "_American Dreamer!_ Oh, Gibbs, you should see it! Ducky and I rented it the other night—"

Gibbs good-naturedly let her ramble about the movie (there actually _was_ a priest with a secret, which explained her referencing the silly thing); by the time they walked into autopsy and she was halfway through the plot, he was ready to recommend the movie to Jenny for her next brain candy night. (Once or twice a month she'd rent a just-for-fun movie, pop popcorn and decompress. Frequently he was invited to join her; sometimes it turned into a girls' night in. (He was glad to miss Jenny, Abby and Ziva and _The First Wives' Club_ a couple of months ago, thank you very much.)) "Whatcha got, Duck?"

Ducky was up to his elbows in Harry Jackson's chest cavity. "Oh, Jethro… this poor, poor man…"

"Yeah?"

"The cause of death was quite simple, really. Thinking of his dear wife, I could be poetic and say it was a broken heart… but, technically, Mr. Jackson suffered from cardiomyopathy, or, an enlarged heart. There are minor abrasions on his right hip and buttock, consistent with the damage observed on the clothing—I would say this fellow was dragged a short distance after he had expired—" He looked up at Gibbs. "From entirely natural causes."

"At the crime scene, you said there was damage to the head?"

"Minor." Ducky pointed to the side of Harry's head, careful to not touch his glove to the wound and cross-contaminate the site. "I'd say it was caused _from_ his death—it did not _cause_ his death. He had a sudden, massive heart attack brought on by the cardiomyopathy. Death was instantaneous; that injury, like the abrasions, occurred postmortem. My guess is the poor man dropped like a rock and cracked his skull upon the pavement."

"After which someone scooped him up and planted him in a snowman in Jenny's yard," Gibbs said grimly.

"While Mr. Jackson _was hidden_, the person who left him intended that the body would be _found_. Otherwise, why leave a clue? Why leave more after the body was discovered?"

"We're hoping the priest might have some information."

Ducky gave him a puzzled look. "Priest?"

Gibbs gave him the Reader's Digest version of the latest clues and the outcome. "Hopefully this Fr. Greg will have information about Harry that will help us find out who did this to him."

Ducky looked down at the body on the autopsy table and sighed. "One can hope that Harry and Tabitha are together again."

"Yeah." A shadow flickered over Gibbs' face for a second. "One can hope."

* * *

><p><em>2036<em>

"Sure beats stakeout in a car for eight hours," Jenny said from her vantage point curled up in a corner of the sofa.

"Yeah, nice to have fresh coffee and a head close by." To a casual observer, Gibbs looked like the picture of relaxation: slouched in a chair, feet on a hassock, mug of coffee in hand and half-eaten sandwich on a plate nearby. But every few seconds his gaze flickered from the redhead across the way to the monitor showing views of the porch and walkway.

"There was no note last night or this morning. What makes you think we'll get another one?"

Gibbs shrugged. "Nothing for or against it. If we don't see anything in a couple of days, we'll pull the equipment and call this a done deal."

"Much as I enjoy playing stakeout—I won't mind to see this 'a done deal.'"

"I'm willing to work for fajitas… or tamales, _oh_, those tamales… or—'

"Ah. You love me for my housekeeper's cooking," she teased.

He flashed a small smile. "I'm a man. Whaddya expect?"

"_Won't_ go _there_."

_2246_

"So what did you learn from the priest?"

Gibbs sighed. "Yeah, he knew Harry for quite a while. Took him years to get to know him. After his wife died he just wanted to be as far from California as he could get. Couldn't work, couldn't… do anything. He couldn't get past the guilt."

"Guilt? It was a tragic accident; she was in the wrong place at the wrong time. He didn't do anything to cause her death," Jenny said. "I mean—I can understand someone with survivor's guilt, but after over twenty years…"

Gibbs stared at his coffee mug. "He had to be on the set that day." He slowly raised his eyes to meet hers. "He… _asked her_… to go to the bank."

Jenny sat for a long moment. "I'll… get us some fresh coffee," she said quietly.

_0314_

"If I'd known we'd be pulling an all-nighter—" Jenny broke off with a yawn.

"Have another cup of coffee."

"Are you kidding? I have enough caffeine in my body to keep me up through New Year's."

"So stop yawning."

"I'm _tired_. Wired, but tired."

"And a poet."

"With a—" She broke off as the monitor showed movement. "What—"

Gibbs had sat up at the flicker and now looked at the screen in disgust. "A dog."

"Pierre." Jenny winced. "He must have slipped out." She sighed, sounding martyred even to her own ears. "I'll take him back. I'll be perfectly safe," she added when it looked like Gibbs would object. She grabbed a jacket and ducked outside. "Hello, Pierre." The poodle snarled. "Yeah, I love you, too. Come on, let's get you home before you freeze to death and the fool gets a replacement that's even worse." Snapping her fingers in a 'come on' command as she walked, Jenny headed down the walk. At the sidewalk's edge she stopped and turned back. Pierre was still on the steps, growling quietly. "Oh, come _on_," she snapped and he trotted after her. _Hmm. Being bitchy is a good thing sometimes_.

Yep, the side gate was open a foot. Jenny pushed it open further and pointed in. Pierre sat on his haunches and stared. Jenny summoned her inner Gibbs, glared, pointed more firmly and snarled, "_Go in!_" in a tone that brooked no argument. Pierre went in. Quickly. She shut the door and hurried back to the warmth of the house.

At the edge of the property she stopped, stared, then went quickly to the front door. "Come outside. Now."

Without bothering to put on a jacket, Gibbs was on the porch in an instant. "What?"

She led him to the tree near the corner where her property abutted Mrs. Rayburn's. Not visible walking from Jenny's to Mrs. Rayburn's but plain as day from the other direction was a string hanging down from a low branch. At the end of the string dangled a paperback book, a hole neatly punched through the top edge.

"_Kidnapped?_" Gibbs almost yelped in disbelief.

"And there's a note stuck to it," Jenny said evenly. "_Dear Mac: If you ever want to see your fridge alive, meet me at the west end of the airport, hangar 13. Come alone or the fridge fries_."

"He avoided the cameras on the porch."

"He knew they were there." Not for the first time, Jenny looked at him with suspicion.

Gibbs either didn't notice or didn't care. "Wonder if anything's waiting at the airport…" he mused.

"Not my fridge," she retorted. "I think we would have noticed by now."

"Mac… So now we have Harry… Bud…" He thought for a moment. "Cody—and Mac."

"We know who Harry was…" She watched Gibbs pull evidence gloves from his car (_Doesn't everyone?_ she thought.), untie the string and carefully, silently bag the book and note.

"Wish McGee was here," he muttered when they returned to the nice, warm living room.

Jenny was surprised. Gibbs usually picked DiNozzo as his point man, often acting almost dismissive of the younger agent. "Oh? Why?"

"Got an idea—but I don't know how to get the computer to cooperate."

"Cooperate… in what way?"

"I want it to see if there's a link between those names somewhere."

"You mean… a _Google search?_" she asked with exaggerated patience. He glowered at her. "Come on, o village Luddite," she laughed. She led him to the computer and pulled it up from sleep mode. "Okay. Cody, Mac, Bud, Harry…" She hit _search_… and a second later exclaimed, "Well, I'll be damned!"

"Noemi knew about the cameras," Gibbs said with a sigh. "She fed the tech crew this morning."

"You don't sound surprised."

He shrugged. "20/20 hindsight."

* * *

><p>They made it as low-key and non-threatening as possible. A call to Fr. Greg to confirm parish rolls and membership in the outreach programs, a drive across town, disarming smiles to unsure parents and an interview in the living room over hot cocoa and Christmas cookies.<p>

"You figured it out, Director Shepard! You won!"

Jenny smiled. "You made it hard, Nick."

"But you figured it out, right?" He looked worried (almost as worried as his parents).

"I _think_ so. What was I supposed to figure out?"

His face fell. "I don't know."

"Wait—you created this mystery for Director Shepard—but you don't know what she was supposed to 'figure out?'" DiNozzo looked confused. "How?"

Nick's brow creased and he blinked away tears. "Harry didn't tell me."

"Why don't you start at the beginning, Nick?" Ziva suggested with a kind smile. (Gibbs was banking on 2/5 of the group being attractive, personable women with great smiles working in their favor. So far, so good.)

"Oka-doka." There was a long pause. "What's the beginning?"

_This is gonna take a while_. "Remember the night at Director Shepard's, when we wrapped all the toys?" Gibbs asked. Nick nodded. "Let's start from that night." Nick nodded again and sat with an expectant look and a smile. Silence. "Okay—you left the notes on the porch. Right?"

"Right!" he beamed. He gasped and turned to Jenny. "And the book! You found the book, didn't you?"

"Yes, I found the book, Nick."

He was still upset. "I didn't want to hurt the book. Mom says books are our friends and you don't hurt your friends. But I _had_ to punch a hole to hang it!"

"It's okay, Nick," she said quickly. "I understand. And I can still read the book," she reassured him.

"But _why_ did you leave the notes, Nick?" Gibbs asked gently.

"Harry said we should."

"Why?"

"To be fun for Director Shepard." He looked at Gibbs, puzzled. "You—you said your snowman was your best present."

Light was starting to dawn. "Yes, it was—"

"And _you_ said Christmas should be fun." Jenny got an imploring look.

"You… just wanted me to have a fun Christmas?" Jenny sighed. She reached over and squeezed his arm lightly. "Thank you, Nick."

"Nick…" _Boy, his parents will __**love**__ this part._ "Why did you put Harry's body in the snowman?"

"Oh, my God!" Dad's coffee sloshed out of his mug.

"Dead? Harry—poor Harry's _dead?_" Mom managed not to cry out loud, but silent tears spilled down her face.

_Oh, yeah, that went over big time._

"Harry—Harry was figuring it all out," Nick said haltingly. "He was a big MacGyver fan 'cause MacGyver's grandpa was named Harry Jackson, he thought it was funny. He said we could do a mystery for Director Shepard like when MacGyver's grandpa left him the neat-o car and they had to find the diamond and he wrote a bunch of clues for Mac to find it."

"_There's something very special that I want you to have. You can pick it up at Mel's Storage, 1420 Minton before 10 a.m. today," _Gibbs said.

"That was the note about the car at the lawyer's. The lawyer used to be Fonzie."

"Henry Winkler," DiNozzo identified.

Gibbs snorted. "Even _I_ know that."

"_Our larcenous friend stepped out of the noose. Take him to robin; the chicken's a wild goose,_ " McGee quoted from his PDA.

"Mac got that note at Mel's Storage. Mel used to be the Maytag Man. He was lonely."

"I do not understand the birds, Nick." Gibbs was tempted to kick Ziva on the ankle for the question. Nick gave her a "hunh?" look. "Birds. Robin? Chicken? Wild goose?"

"Ma'am?" They all looked at Nick's father. "If I may—in the episode, there was a character, a nun named Sister Robin. MacGyver's grandfather wanted him to take Cody—that's the man who got out of prison—to visit the nun and help save the soup kitchen. Another clue told Cody to go to 'the habit on third.'"

McGee tapped his PDA. "_CODY: Take your best friend's counsel and talk to the bird; go to the habit over on Third_."

"Right. There was a fast-food place called The Chicken Habit. Cody thought the diamond was hidden there. But that was the wild goose chase," he said. He glanced at the rows of DVDs and videotapes. "My son is a big fan of old detective and adventure shows."

"Ah." Ziva nodded as though she was actually following this; Gibbs had read the description of the episode and was _still _lost.

"Now the note makes sense," McGee said.

_Glad it does for someone_.

"But Robin isn't real so I had to put in Fr. Greg so you'd go talk to him and find out about Harry."

_Nobody else in the notes was real, why stop there?_

"Why not just write, 'go see Fr. Greg at St. Luke's' originally?" Ziva asked as though she had read Gibbs' thoughts.

Nick looked almost aghast. "Because then it wouldn't rhyme!"

"Ah," she said again.

_It kind of makes sense. _"But why _those_ notes, Nick?" Gibbs asked. "What did they have to do with Harry? Why did you put Harry in the snowman?"

Too many questions all at once. Nick froze.

"Nicky…" Mrs. Castalenos came over and sat next to her son. "Whose idea was it to put the snowman on Director Shepard's yard?" she asked gently.

His face cleared. "Harry's."

"Why did Harry want to use those notes?" she continued. He looked at her blankly. "Those notes are from MacGyver's grandfather teaching a thief to go straight and do good. Why would Harry leave those notes for Director Shepard?"

Nick looked sad. "He didn't get a chance to change them. He had a really good mystery done up, he said it would be just as good like MacGyver's." He tapped his head. "Allllll upstairs."

Gibbs had an 'ah-ha' moment. "Harry was just using the episode as an idea? But because he didn't write it down… you had to use the notes from the show."

Nick grinned. "Right!"

"So the hockey rink diagram meant nothing. It was just part of the notes—so you copied it." DiNozzo forced a smile at Nick's nod. Clearly he was thinking of all the time wasted calling all the ice rinks in the area.

"And the book? Where does the book come in? You know—_Kidnapped?_" Gibbs asked.

"That was a different episode. That was when Mike got kidnapped. So Jack hid all of MacGyver's stuff to make him help rescue her." (Gibbs was totally lost but there was no way in hell he was going to ask for clarification of another episode of a show he had zero intention of ever watching.) "There weren't any more notes and I needed another _clue_," Nick stressed. He hadn't known what a clue was during the wrap-a-thon; he sure knew, now.

"But, Nick—I watched that episode—_Harry's Will__—_this morning at the office, before we came over," DiNozzo said. "There was no body in that show. Nobody died, nobody got killed. Why did you put Harry in the snowman?"

Nick's face lowered and he stared at his lap. "Sometimes, when they run out of beds, Mrs. Noemi would let Harry sleep in the kitchen when she closed. Mrs. Noemi cooks for St. Vincent de Paul."

The charity program run through the church. "They're lucky to have her," Gibbs said.

"Uh-huh. She's a _real_ good cook. And if Harry only had the kitchen for a bed Mom told me to bring Harry home. Sometimes he wouldn't come even if Mom said he _had_ to."

"Harry…" Mrs. Castelanos' voice was low. "Harry was… a… _broken_ man…" She glanced across at Gibbs. "But a _good_ man. We just wanted to help. But, for the most part… he wouldn't let us."

Ziva leaned over. "But you _tried_," she said softly. "That counts for a lot." Nick's mother smiled her thanks.

"We were gonna do the snowman. I told Harry I'd get him from church. But he wasn't in the shelter and they were full. And he wasn't in the kitchen and it was empty." His eyes filled with tears. "I found him. He was behind Fr. Greg's office. I think he tripped and fell but he was really, really cold and I knew he was dead." His mother bit her lip and looked away. "But planning the snowman for Director Shepard was _fun_. It was the first time he was happy for the whole time I know him."

"You… just figured he'd want to be part of the game?" Jenny said.

He nodded. For the first time, he looked scared. "Did I break a rule?"

His mother glanced at her husband and looked at Gibbs imploringly. They knew he had broken a rule. A _big_ rule.

Gibbs reached over and patted his hand. "Nothing we can't fix."

His face cleared and he grinned hopefully at Jenny sitting next to him. "But—you liked it, didn't you? Didn't you?"

Jenny thought of the confusion, unease and outright fear of the past several days—and smiled. "I loved it, Nick. You and Harry gave me a _great_ surprise."

"You were so nice to do all those presents! And Mrs. Noemi says you're a really nice boss."

"Thank you." She gave him a hug. "Thank you… for one of the—" She chose her words carefully. "—_best_ and _most_ _interesting_ Christmases I've ever had."

_Understatement_.

* * *

><p>"Y'know… in a weird way… this <em>was<em> one of my best Christmases. I mean, Nick went through a lot of effort, even digging out Navy discards from the charity clothing room to put on the snowman. That was a lot of work, just to say thanks for helping on the Toys For Tots campaign."

"Yeah, well… you deserve a big thanks. How many nights have they dropped off another box… and another… and another…?"

"Well, there weren't that many to wrap, it seemed silly to call everyone in—"

"You have a good heart, Jen." He gave her a long hug. "That's what Nick was saying 'thank you' for." Long hug was followed by a long kiss. "It's what a lot of us say 'thank you' for. Even if we sometimes forget."

She was actually embarrassed. "Well… to that thank you I say… _you're welcome_."

He smiled, the little, crooked smile that always made her grin in response. It didn't fail this time, either. "Picking you up at eleven tomorrow?"

She gasped. "Good heavens! Is it _Christmas_ tomorrow?" she teased.

"Yep. Hope you've been a good girl." He patted her head and turned toward the front door.

She waited until he had the door open and was halfway through. "No worries." When he looked back she gave him a smirk he should recognize (since she learned it from him). "I have it on good authority that I'm _very_ good."

He didn't hesitate. "But does _Santa_ know that?" With a chuckle and a, "G'night, Jen," he ambled out the door and into the night.

* * *

><p>No Christmas stockings.<p>

Well—not until everyone got to Ducky's.

But no matter how old you get, there's always a little pang on Christmas morning when you don't get to go pattering down the stairs, dashing for the stockings by the fireplace. It was still fun to assemble at Ducky's, open stockings, eat a wonderful (_beyond_ _wonderful_) midday dinner, trade gifts, kick back and _truly_ relax… but, oh, for the timeless pleasure of leaping from bed in the pre-dawn light, shredding tissue paper and sticking bows to pets and sneaking so many candy canes and chocolate ornaments that the idea of breakfast was appalling to once more appear in her world would be so sweet.

_Career, first_. 364 days a year, it never bothered her. She had drive, she had ambition, and they had taken her to the chair of Director of NCIS. But one day a year…

…_one_ day a year…

…she longed to hear the squeals of joy that only the voice of a child can make—even if it were a vicarious pleasure. Yes, she got a lot of satisfaction helping the Toys For Tots program. And it was truly heartwarming to help Jethro and Abby and the rest take toys and gifts to the children's wards. But just to hear the shrieks and laughter echo in her living room once again…

"Well, I'll just have to be twice as loud at Ducky's," she said to her bedroom at large. With a decisive nod, she threw on her robe and slippers and padded downstairs for a cup of coffee and the morning paper.

Halfway down the stairs she stopped.

And stared.

Neatly stacked in the foyer, just inside the front door, were several large boxes. Even from a distance she could see Santa scattered over the wrapping paper and huge bows on each box.

_Jethro. It had to be Jethro._ (The idea of anyone else being able to sneak into her house in the dead of night was beyond unsettling.)

She approached the boxes cautiously, like one would advance on an active beehive. "Nothing ticking…" she muttered. She tried the doorknob; it was locked, and the deadbolt was thrown. _It __**had**__ to be Jethro…_ He had a key for emergencies; apparently, sneaking in Christmas presents qualified as an emergency.

She squatted down next to the first box. A large tag was tied to the ribbon. In very neat printing she read: _TO LITTLE JENNY, WHO HAS BEEN A VERY, VERY GOOD GIRL ALL YEAR—WITH LOVE FROM SANTA._

"Oh, Jethro…" It was a sigh. And a laugh. As she looked, she realized there were more packages than she originally thought: three large ones, each about the size of a dormitory refrigerator, and another five, smaller packages. "Well, they say good things come in small packages. You, first," she said to the top box. She carefully slipped off the ribbon and bow, neatly slit the tape, folded back the paper—and stopped.

"No."

She reached out a hesitant hand to touch the aged print on the cardboard. _It's real…_

_Suzy Homemaker Regular Blender  
><em>_(As Seen on TV)  
><em>_Makes Real Milkshakes, Malteds—_

"No… oh…" She began to laugh. She grabbed the next box and plopped onto the floor. The hell with decorum. She yanked off the ribbon, tore off the paper— "Yes!" She gave a yelp of joy. "_Yes!_ The Super-Grill! Ha! You girls never had the Super-Grill, now _I've_ got one!"

Regular Blender, Super-Grill, Ice-Cream Maker, Soda Fountain (_I never knew they even __**made**__ a soda fountain!_), Mixer—and the big boxes: the Sink and Dishwasher, Washing Machine—

She was almost afraid to open the last package. Finally gathering her nerve, she tore off the paper.

On top of the box was a neatly printed note: _CHOCOLATE CHIP ARE MY FAVORITE._

_Suzy Homemaker "Super Safety" Oven (Medium Size)_

_It Works Like A Real One!_

"I have my own." She was laughing. And crying. "I finally have _my_ _own_."

If the walls could have smiled, they would have. It was good to hear a child's squeals of joy on Christmas once again… even if the child was long past the age one normally believes in Santa. Because, deep down, _everyone_ believes in Santa…

At least a little bit.

* * *

><p><em>Life imitates art (or vice versa): I was the one singing "The Twelve Days AFTER Christmas" in junior high school (thank you, Mrs. Koch!) and the "HO HO HO" paper on the Bratz doll was stolen word for word from a charity gift wrap-a-thon at work some 5 or 6 years ago (thank you, Matthew, LOL).<em>

_(Okay, if last year's story took place in season 3's Christmas, this would be season 4, which means Ducky would know about Shannon and Kelly and arrrrgh, let's just call this AU, okay? Okay.)_


	20. Sour and Sweet Calliatra

**Sour and Sweet**

_by Calliatra_

**Disclaimer:** All recognizable NCIS characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. No money is being made from this work. No copyright infringement is intended.

**Summary:** Gibbs and Jenny find themselves working late on Christmas Eve.

**A/N: **For all the Jibbs authors who wrote such lovely Christmas stories, and especially for MissJayne who always makes sure the Jibbsfest is a success, and who organized the Jibbs Secret Santa this year. Thank you!

Christmas Eve was a quiet time at NCIS headquarters. Not many people came in to work that day in the first place, and by early evening the squad room was practically deserted. Everyone who could had left early, eager to spend as much of the day as possible with family or friends. Only a few of them had dared throw glances at Gibbs on their way out, some curious and some even pitying as he sat at his desk, alone, doing paperwork. His team had known better than to comment when he had dismissed them with a wave of his hand.

It had grown dark, and if he had let his attention drift from his work for a moment, Gibbs would have noticed that his desk lamp was now the only island of light in the otherwise dim squad room. It shone on the pages of a three year old case report written by someone who clearly didn't understand the purpose of a case report. One more pretentiously phrased sentence highlighting a completely irrelevant detail and Gibbs was going to have to hunt the man down and shoot him. Mentally sighing, he set the file down and admitted that Petty Officer Henderson's conviction for possession of a few grams of marijuana three years earlier probably had little to do with the fact that upon catching them in bed together, he had shot his wife and her lover.

He rubbed his eyes, strained from several hours of reading unreasonably small type. Breathing deeply, he leaned back in his chair and stretched his back. This had been the last of the files even remotely related to a case his team had worked recently. His eyes drifted up to the catwalk, and on to the door to the Director's office. Cynthia had left hours ago, but Jenny was still there, no doubt poring over files of her own. He glanced at the stack of cold case reports he had prepared to work on tonight. Then, on a sudden impulse, he stood, grabbed his coat, and headed for the elevator.

He returned not half an hour later carrying several telltale white cartons, and took the stairs two steps at a time. He brushed past the outer office as he always did, not bothering to knock or announce himself.

Engrossed in a budget report, Jenny looked up, startled, when the door to her office suddenly swung open. In strode Gibbs, clearly confident as always that whatever he might interrupt couldn't possibly be more important than what he had come for. Well, in this case he was right.

In lieu of an explanation he lifted the take-out boxes, and she couldn't help the smile spreading across her face as he started matter-of-factly setting up the food on her couch table.

"I have work to do." Her protest was perfunctory, however, offered even as she rounded her desk to join him.

His raised eyebrows expressed plainly what he thought of her objection. He was right, of course. It was Christmas; no one expected any serious work to get done. And if somehow it did, there would be no one to notice before work resumed after the holidays.

Sinking onto the couch, Jenny slipped off her shoes and relished her toes' newfound freedom. Gibbs sat down next to her, passing her one of the boxes and a pair of chopsticks.

"Chinese?" She raised an amused eyebrow.

He shrugged. "They were open."

She glanced at him. She wasn't exactly suspicious, but she wasn't really sure why he was here. "It's Christmas Eve," she said. "Don't you have somewhere better to be?"

Once again he shrugged, but there was a tension in his shoulders that belied the supposed lack of concern. "Nope." Somehow he could fit a whole world of meaning into just one word.

"You?" he challenged.

It hit a nerve, the same one she had been trying to dull with the legal department's quarterly spending analyses. "I don't need a pity party," she bit out. Immediately she wished she could take the words back, but of course she knew better than to apologize.

"Not offering." No, if there was one thing Leroy Jethro Gibbs would never offer, it was pity.

"What _are_ you offering?" She didn't really expect a direct answer, but it was worth a try.

"Food."

Well, that was straightforward enough. "Sweet and sour chicken?" she asked, and peered into the box to indeed find her favorite. "Thank you."

He gave the barest hint of a nod, and opened his own box.

"You sent your team home?" Of course he had. He wouldn't keep them here unnecessarily, not when they had people waiting for them.

"Yeah. Wrapped up the Henderson case. He confessed."

"Well, he didn't have much of a choice. Not after Abby rescued the recording off his wife's cell phone."

Gibbs eyed her suspiciously. "You been trying to run my cases again?"

"I'm just keeping up to date on open investigations." And maybe – though she would never have admitted it – looking for a bit friendly company and holiday cheer. For both, there was no better place than Abby's lab.

"Uh-huh." Somehow he managed to convey the impression of raising his eyebrows and rolling his eyes without actually doing either.

"And just what do you mean by that?" she narrowed her eyes at him.

"You miss the field, Jen." It wasn't the accusation she had expected. It was a simple statement, and one she couldn't well deny.

"I have priorities."

He snorted. "Yeah. You do."

Memories surged into the air between them, pulling them into visions of another time, another place, another life, and they lapsed into silence.

"How did we end up here?" Jenny sighed after the quiet had filled the room for too long.

"Choices. Fate. Coincidence." He shrugged. "Does it matter?"

"No. No, I guess it doesn't." But he didn't believe in coincidence, of course, and he didn't think much of fate, either.

"'Doesn't matter where you start, 'long as you know where you're going,'" he said, and it seemed so utterly unlike him that she stared.

"My father always said that," he explained.

She couldn't remember him ever mentioning his father before, and wondered what the story there was. From long experience, she knew better than to pry.

"_Do_ you?"

He shook his head. "Never did listen to my father."

"Well, that would explain your manners." She raised a pointed eyebrow. "Or lack thereof."

"Hey!" he protested. "Didn't I just buy you dinner?"

"You did. But if you had manners, you would have knocked and politely asked me instead of just walking in with takeout."

"That what you want me to do?"

The mere thought made her laugh. "Jethro, if you ever politely asked me _anything _I'd think the world was coming to an end. Or I'd shoot you, since that'd be proof enough you'd been replaced by an evil clone."

He chuckled and leaned back, looking at her. "I missed you, Jen."

It was as clear an invitation as it had been the first time. A second chance, almost, or possibly a third one already. "You know," she said carefully, "Noemi cooked a whole feast for me. If you want a real Christmas meal…"

"You inviting me for coffee?" His tone was teasing, but she heard the real question.

"If that's what you'd prefer. But you really should try Noemi's tamales. I think they might actually be better than the ones we had in Valencia." The ones in Valencia had, of course, led to _other_ activities.

He got the message. "Can't say no to that," he grinned. Pushing himself off the couch, he held out a hand to Jenny, which she pointedly ignored.

He laughed. "You want to drive?"

Gibbs was woken the next morning by a stray strand of red hair tickling his nose. He brushed it aside gently, careful not to wake its owner. In her sleep, Jenny moved slightly and nestled closer to him. A glance at the clock told him it was almost too late to still be in bed, but for once he chose to ignore it. He was about to drift off again when Jenny blinked and opened her eyes.

"Morning," she mumbled, and her lips were just too inviting not to kiss them. So he did.

"What was that for?" Even half asleep, Jenny was ever wary. He wouldn't have had it any other way.

"You," he said simply, and smiling leaned across for another kiss. "Merry Christmas."


End file.
